


accepting destiny (only to be broken)

by Anonymous



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Developing Friendships, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, M/M, Platonic Relationships, Village life, chingu line, chingu line r like brothers to each other, sulay move to a village, the main focus will prolly be the friendships, they said BFFS for LIFE, this fic is also lowkey about the healing process, this is gonna be wild but based of legend of Zelda botw and how it takes place after a war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:33:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24134398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: As the kingdom recovers from the aftermaths of a war, Junmyeon and Yixing move to a little village that borders the land and the big, big sea.(A story about finding home in people and places, lifelong friendships, and rebuilding the pieces of your soul that got carried away in the winds of hurt).
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun & Do Kyungsoo | D.O, Byun Baekhyun & Kim Jongdae | Chen, Byun Baekhyun & Park Chanyeol, Do Kyungsoo | D.O & Kim Jongdae | Chen, Do Kyungsoo | D.O & Park Chanyeol, Kim Jongdae | Chen & Park Chanyeol, Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Comments: 57
Kudos: 44
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Moving In

“It’s a relief someone’s moved in, honestly.” Chanyeol takes the stone steps two at a time, pausing at the top of the hill to look over his shoulder. 

Baekhyun grumbles something incomprehensible, huffing when he reaches him. “How is it a relief? That’s Old Lee Sooman’s house. It’s probably haunted, or worse, still the same.” 

“That’s exactly why it’s a relief, we all thought no one would move in! Plus we could use some new faces in the village.” 

“Right,” Baekhyun stops at the little wooden gate, hesitating to touch it. He stares at it, a little perplexed. “Did they fix the gate?” 

Chanyeol pushes it open, blinking when the gate doesn’t creak, and opens with ease. “Didn’t they just move in? They certainly work fast,”

Baekhyun marvels, nodding his head approvingly. He looks down at the stone path, noting how it’s already been rid of overgrown weeds. “Good with their hands, fast thinkers... maybe you’re right. This could be good for the village.”

“Care to repeat—“

“No.” 

“Whatever,” Chanyeol mumbles, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Let’s just say hello and leave.” 

“Remember. Don’t laugh. Don’t smile. Don’t say anything that can overwhelm them. Actually,” Baekhyun pauses, glancing at Chanyeol thoughtfully. “Don’t say anything at all.” 

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Chanyeol awkwardly pulls the sleeves of his shirt. He’s outgrown the one decent shirt he owns. The sleeves are uncomfortably short, and the hem just barely touches the top of his pants. 

“Hold this,” Baekhyun hands him the basket filled with goods for the newcomers. He had spent the previous day curating the perfect fruit basket. “Stand there. And look pretty.”

“Baek—“ 

Baekhyun cuts him off with a withering glare and knocks his fist against the wooden door three times. 

“Did they clean the door?” Chanyeol mumbles, “It’s not covered in,” he gestures to the door vaguely. “Plants.”

“Keep quiet.” Baekhyun taps his feet against the dirt impatiently. “Are they home?” He pipes up after a few moments.

Chanyeol bites his lip, thinking. “Maybe they don’t want to have visitors. Or maybe their faces are horribly disfigured.” 

“Chanyeol please—“ 

“Maybe they fought in the war and now abhor any sort of social interaction because their team was suddenly killed—“ 

“Just shut up will you?” Baekhyun’s voice drops in annoyance. 

“Or maybe that’s what they _want us to think!_ Maybe they’re actually spies for the energy who now need to cover up their identity to survive in a strange and foreign land— or well, strange and foreign for them.” 

“I don’t want to hear your stupid theories—“

“What if someone they knew tragically met their end because they opened the door and the official royal guard was waiting at the door, ready to—“ 

Out of sheer habit, Baekhyun reaches over to deftly pinch Chanyeol’s side, completely forgetting that said man is holding the basket filled with his precious fruits. It takes a matter of milliseconds for Baekhyun to realize his mistake, cursing himself as Chanyeol reacts dramatically. Jumping out of shock, and tossing the basket in the air before he can even process what’s happening. 

“The basket—” Baekhyun begins to shriek, reaching out for the basket and already mourning the loss of his fruits. He watches in horror as it begins to tumble towards the ground right before his eyes, in slow motion. Then he watches in confusion, as a pair of hands that definitely did not belong to himself, or the bumbling oaf Chanyeol, easily catches it. 

There’s a moment where Baekhyun and Chanyeol freeze and the three of them just awkwardly stand there. 

Baekhyun looks up at Chanyeol who seems to be just as lost, even more so. His eyes are blown wide open, and mouth hanging as the person stands up, holding the basket in his cupped palms. Baekhyun has half the mind to question just who in the land possessed sharp reflexes to that degree, but instead what comes out is a strangled, and stupid:

“You saved my fruits,” and then towards Chanyeol, “And you almost ruined them!” 

“I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me—“ Chanyeol pleads, and Baekhyun has half the mind to do it, but the basket-catcher moves the slightest bit in front of Chanyeol, face devoid of emotion. 

Baekhyun starts to get a good look at him, immediately noticing his stonger build, and firm stance. Baekhyun doesn’t know if sunlight can shine off black hair, but this man certainly makes it look possible. 

“What’s all this commotion— ” As if the gods enjoy Baekhyun’s misfortune, the door is finally open. At the door, a brown-haired man stands, a quizzical expression on his face. “Can I help you…?” 

“You’re not horribly disfigured,” Chanyeol blurts out, his cheeks reddening at a fast pace. And embarrassingly so, Baekhyun can’t blame him. Maybe Chanyeol’s delusions had affected Baekhyun more than he thought. He was expecting a twisted hag, not a charmingly cute man. 

“This is your basket I presume?” The Basket-catcher murmurs, holding it out to Baekhyun. 

“Uh, yeah.” Baekhyun manages to get out. Instead of trolls, the new people were young and honestly attractive. Good with their hands, fast thinkers, and attractive. The list was growing. 

The three stand there. Baekhyun struggles to come up with something, anything to say. 

“Yixing? Did you forget to take your key with you?” The man at the door asks, his eyes round and questioning. 

Yixing. Baekhyun pins the name to the basket-catcher, who merely shrugs. 

“My hands were full.” He holds it out to Baekhyun again, and this time Baekhyun takes it. “I think they’re our neighbors.” He replies as if a question were asked. 

“Yes!” Chanyeol pipes you, looking desperate to salvage the situation. “Sort of, not quite. This is the only house on the hill after all, but we’re from the village that’s well, right there, so technically neighbors?” He rambles on. 

The man’s eyes widen at this, “Oh my, oh my goodness. I’m terribly sorry about all this.” 

Basket-catch— Yixing, brushes past Baekhyun and Chanyeol, and marches into the house only to lean against the doorframe. 

“No worries,” Baekhyun smiles, regaining his senses. “It’s nout your fault at all. Sorry about the noise. I’m Baekhyun, this idiot” he jerks his head towards Chanyeol. “Is Chanyeol. Pleasure to meet you.” 

“I’m Junmyeon,” he smiles again, and Baekhyun feels himself smile along with it. “And this is Yixing. Please do come in.” 

The two follow the interesting new neighbors into their home. Baekhyun has been in this home only twice in his entire life, what he remembered was a drab and dull house, dust and cobwebs everywhere. 

What he was greeted with was a spotless house. Golden sunlight streaming through the open windows, boxes and random trinkets lying around, a few books strewn on a rickety wooden table, and— 

“By the goddess,” Chanyeol breathes out, and Baekhyun’s eyes travel along his line of sight. 

There mounted on the wall was a massive sword. Intricate gold detailing at the hilt, sharper than anything Baekhyun has ever laid eyes on. 

“Pardon the mess, we’re just still—“ 

“Where did you get it?” Chanyeol turns around, eyes sparkling with interest. 

There’s a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “Ah, that?” Junmyeon smiles a little uneasily. “It’s no big deal, really,” 

“No big deal?” Chanyeol chokes out, “Those swords are only given to the highest order of knights! They’re super rare! I never thought I’d see one in my entire life, I can’t even imagine what you went through to acquire it. The auctions, the black market, it’s nearly impossible to find!” 

As if bewildered by his words, Junmyeon pauses, clearly contemplating, “I see you’re an… enthusiast?” He asks slowly. 

Baekhyun jumps slightly when he notices Yixing watching them, his eyes unreadable and trained on Chanyeol. Yixing’s eyes flit over to him for just a second, and then the basket in his hands. 

“Ignore him,” Baekhyun cuts in, wondering ifthat was a message he was meant to interpret. He holds the basket out, as if it’s a peace offering. “This is for you two!” 

Junmyeon’s face lights up, “Oh you didn’t have to,” he carefully takes the basket, holding it with care. “Thank you so much.” 

“Oh it’s no big deal,” Baekhyun waves his hands flippantly. “Just a little something to welcome you to the village,” 

“Well they look amazing, did you grow them yourself?” 

“I did actually,” Baekhyun beams with pride.

“Baekhyun runs the most popular fruit stand at the Sunday Market.” Chanyeol pipes up, nudging Baekhyun lightly. 

Baekhyun takes it all in stride, “Feel free to drop by then, or anytime really.” 

“We’ll definitely keep that in mind, won’t we Yixing?” Junmyeon walks over to place the basket on the table, and Baekhyun watches as Yixing’s eyes follow his movements. 

Yixing is clearly a man of little to no words. 

“Well, looks like the sun is going down. We better get going,” he glances out the window, and then to Chanyeol. A silent cue. 

“We won’t keep you, thank you for dropping by.” Junmyeon leads them back through the mess towards the door. “I look forward to seeing your lovely stall on Sunday.” 

“And I look forward to seeing you there.” Baekhyun smiles graciously, stepping out. 

He waits until both him and Chanyeol have reached the top of the stone staircase, before turning on him. “Chanyeol just what is wrong with you!” He exclaims, frowning. 

“I’m going to need you to tell me which part of the evening you're talking about because it was all a mess.” 

“The sword Chanyeol,” Baekhyun huffs. “Are you daft or have you forgotten that the entire land is recovering from a war? What if it belonged to someone they knew? A loved one? A lost one?” 

“I’ve been thinking—“ 

“For once.”

“It’s just strange is all. I don’t know why they would have that, even if it belonged to someone they knew they could sell it. Or use it to their advantage to get riches. It makes me wonder...” 

“Chanyeol please, enough theories.”

“Hear me out, only the King can distribute that sword! Receiving that is a clear sign of favor from him to the most honorable. So they could easily use it, even if it was a family member’s or whatever, to gain favor.” 

“Chanyeol is it just me or are you delusional?” Baekhyun mumbles, kicking a pebble on the sandy path. He watches as it bounces down the road. There was something strange about that man, Yixing, was it? But not enough for Baekhyun to be so curious. 

“Why would they move here, and just mount it like some… useless decoration?” 

In the back of his mind, a part of Baekhyun agrees. Why _would_ they want to move to his tiny, unknown village? But it wasn’t his business. Something Chanyeol clearly didn’t understand. The war was cruel and lasted for what felt like lifetimes. It displaced people, caused havoc, rot, and things his village had managed to avoid for the most part. So if, _if_ those two were a product of the aftermaths of the war, Baekhyun would let them be. 

Either way, he isn’t stupid enough to just ask them about what could bring back horrible memories for them, so regardless he’ll have to let them be. 

He stops walking, placing a hand on Chanyeol’s arm. “Look, that’s none of our business. They seem like nice people, and we could use people like that around here.” 

Chanyeol purses his lips ready to talk, but a look from Baekhyun silences his thoughts.

“Let’s try our best to not run them out of here, ok?” 

“...fine.” 

“That was a disaster,” Junmyeon groans, sitting down on the wooden floor. “I feel awful that the house was a mess. I didn’t even offer them anything!”

“You’re adjusting.” Yixing states simply. “We both are.” After a beat, he lowers himself beside Junmyeon. 

“It was rather nice that they dropped by. I look forward to talking to them more.” Junmyeon flops onto his back. 

Yixing hums, instinctively pulling Junmyeon up to let his head rest in his lap. “They’re quite...interesting.” 

“Do you think they…” Junmyeon trails off, unable to finish his question. “Chan...yeol was it? He recognized the sword.” 

“They wouldn’t know. News hardly reaches this far.” 

Junmyeon closes his eyes, willing himself to shut his thoughts down. “You’re right..” Is all he says. The words aren’t enough, but the sudden weariness in his tone conveys everything to Yixing. 

“Rest,” Yixing replies easily, reaching out to stroke Junmyeon’s hair. “We officially have all the time in the world.”


	2. Mending Fences

“Hey, _hey,”_

Baekhyun hears an urgent whisper, which he ignores. He’s got satchels filled with fruits and Chanyeol had refused to help him carry them. His arms ache but it’ll be worth it when—

Baekhyun is unceremoniously jerked backwards, practically toppling over the short stone wall that borders the dirty road by someone grabbing him by his shirt. He opens his mouth, ready to hurl profanities at his assaulter when a hand slaps over his mouth, and he’s met with wide eyes. 

“Chanyeol?” He rips the hand of his mouth. “By the Goddess what are you doing? You could’ve made me—“ 

Chanyeol makes some flapping gestures Baekhyun can only interpret due to years of practice as: _shut up._

Chanyeol peeks over the hedge, and practically drags Baekhyun up by the collar of his shirt. 

“Look,” Chanyeol whispers, looking awed. 

“Just what am I looking at?” Baekhyun questions crabbily, his thoughts still directed on his fruits. Most of them would be ok, but there were definitely some that would’ve gotten crushed by his body due to Chanyeol uncivilly uprooting him from the— 

“They’ve got him,” Chanyeol sounds excited, and his eyes are shining with so much interest it almost scares Baekhyun. 

“Got who?” Baekhyun squints, and he’s not too sure what he’s supposed to be looking at. He spots Junmyeon and Yixing, and they’re talking to someone. Someone shorter, someone holding a pitchfork and not looking angry, someone that’s— 

“Is that _Kyungsoo?”_ Baekhyun gasps at the same time Chanyeol exclaims under his breath, 

“They’ve got Kyungsoo!” 

“What do you mean they’ve _got_ Kyungsoo. Did you eat those weird mushrooms again? Chanyeol how many times do I have to tell you that those are—“ 

“Oh my gosh, _oh my gosh,_ he’s giving them vegetables. I repeat he’s giving them vegetables—“ 

“There’s no way. There’s no way that Kyungsoo is— by the goddess,” Baekhyun breathes out, watching as a _smiling_ Kyungsoo hands an equally smiley Junmyeon a basket filled with vegetables. “They’ve got Kyungsoo.” 

If Chanyeol was the village idiot. Jongdae— a dear friend— was the lovable genius, then Kyungsoo was the grumpy farmer with the soul of an 80-year-old. 

Everyone in the village also claimed that Kyungsoo had blessed fingers. A logical claim because the man grew vegetables better than anyone else, and won all the village fairs because of it. 

They had known each other since they were kids. In fact, all of them (Baekhyun, Chanyeol, Jongdae, and Kyungsoo) had grown up together. They were lucky enough that Kyungsoo kept them well stocked with the finest vegetables in the village, a privilege earned by their friendship alone. Others were not as lucky, considering how they had to wait until every Sunday Market to haggle and buy.

Even so, those two were new to the village. They didn’t have years of experienced friendship with Kyungsoo, so what on earth had they done to convince him? 

“Magic,” Chanyeol mutters under his breath, already convinced. “It has to be magic.” Due to his height, he was kneeling behind the bush, but regardless his head still sticks above the hedge

“They don’t seem to be like the magic folk,” Baekhyun mumbles in response, leaning back onto his feet. Tricky folks they were, the magic ones. Baekhyun’s village was far too out to have any, it would be too rare, almost disturbing to their oblivious peace. The terms were pretty explanatory, anyone who possessed the gift of magic— gifted by the goddess— were dubbed as ‘Magic Folk’. Maybe they had specific titles in the city, or the palace, but certainly not here. 

Magic was complicated, Baekhyun knew that. He also knew that Because Chanyeol, the War Enthusiast, would never shut up about how strange it was that it was the magic folk who helped them win the war. As if the magic folk weren’t naturally integrated into society, which they were, just not here. 

“Charm speakers, gifted spells, they had to have done _something,”_ Chanyeol’s words are undoubtedly tinged with frustration. “I’ve been trying to get him to give me those carrots since forever.”

“He didn’t give you some last time?” Baekhyun murmurs, in hopes of distracting Chanyeol. It won’t work, but it’s worth a try.

“He never gives me carrots, for whatever reason.”

“That’s because I need those to feed the rabbits I feel guilty about chasing away.” 

Chanyeol lets out a shriek, toppling backwards and landing flat on his back. There goes his shirt into the dust. Baekhyun reacts with more grace, leaping to his feet even though his heart is beating fast. 

“Kyungsoo!” Chanyeol exclaims, but it’s directed towards the sky. “How nice to see you here!” 

“So nice,” Kyungsoo comments, pursing his lips. He looks at Chanyeol, up to Baekhyun, and then down to Baekhyun’s scattered fruits. “Just what exactly were you doing behind the bushes? Certainly not spying, right?” Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow at them, silently proclaiming how he wouldn’t put it past them. 

“...No.” Baekhyun answers, crouching down to start picking his fruits up again. He’s going to need to wash them extra hard today. 

“...Maybe,” Chanyeol answers, finally sitting up. He runs a hand through his dark red hair, wiping the dirt off. “But never mind that, I’ve got questions.” 

“About what?” Kyungsoo walks around the hedge, tiptoeing around Baekhyun’s fruits. “Because I feel like I should be the one asking questions here,” he muses. 

“He’s right,” Baekhyun answers fast, not even hesitating to side with Kyungsoo. 

“The new villagers,” Chanyeol pauses. Whether it’s for dramatic purposes, or to gather his thoughts so he won’t fumble in front of Kyungsoo, no one knows. “Are they Magic Folk?” 

There’s a moment of silence where Kyungsoo’s mouth parts slightly, and Baekhyun can basically hear him asking, _‘Why the hell would any Magic Folk come here’_. “Junmyeon and Yixing? Magic Folk?”

“I see you’re on a first-name basis,” Chanyeol notes. 

“I’m pretty sure they never told us their last names,” Baekhyun points out, shooting down whatever notion Chanyeol is trying to imply. Not like it was rude or anything, they went by a first name basis here most of them among their crowd. Only the elderly were addressed with their last names. 

“Regardless, whatever basis we’re on isn’t your concern,” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. Hard. “So whatever your little new idea is, don’t be stupid.” There’s nothing rude about the way Kyungsoo says it. It’s just simple and matter-of-factly. “They’re good people you know. Don’t run them outta here.” 

“How would you know that?” Chanyeol presses, as if Kyungsoo has some big secret. Big secrets hardly existed in their village, mainly because everyone would find out about them in no time. 

Kyungsoo bends down to pick up a fallen peach. “They like peaches, you know,” Ignoring Chanyeol, focusing on Baekhyun.

“They do?” A surge of excitement sparks in Baekhyun. He takes it as a sign that he should tag along and try to distract Chanyeol. “That’s perfect because I did give them some peaches in their fruit basket, should I give them another soon?” 

“That’d be nice. I don’t know if they’ve been to Sunday Market yet. They might be running short.”

“It’s perfectly plausible,” Chanyeol grumbles unhappily, still caught up in his own little world. 

“I’ve been thinking we should show them around? Take them down to the pit.” The pit, as everyone fondly referred to it as, was nothing like a pit. Why was it even called that? No one knows. It was a stretch of what Baekhyun believed was the softest sand in all the land. Beyond the soft sand and fresh seafood, was an endless sea. As the rumours said, if you swam far enough the Goddess would reward you for your curiosity. 

Kyungsoo nods in agreement. “Maybe we should go together, get to know them. I like them.” If they had Kyungsoo’s seal of approval, that was enough for Baekhyun to know they could be trusted. 

Everyone had to stop Chanyeol from doing that multiple times. 

“Maybe they don’t need Sunday Market because they can magically produce things with a slight of their fingers,” Chanyeol waggles his fingers energetically. 

Kyungsoo sighs, extending his arm towards Chanyeol, helping him off the ground. “That’s enough, Chanyeol.” 

“You know me,” Chanyeol shrugs. “Once the idea is there, it’s stuck.” 

“Like a stick,” Baekhyun grumbles. “In mud.” 

“He definitely is skinny enough to be a stick.” Kyungsoo eyes Chanyeol’s arms, frowning. “You two, come over for dinner next week. I’ll invite Jongdae as well. Someone has to feed you.” 

“I can feed myself just fine—” 

“While you’re at it, you should invite them!” Chanyeol’s eyes get all sparkly. The same kind of sparkle he got when he convinced Jongdae that stealing a cow from Kyungsoo’s grandpa was a good idea. The exact same sparkle that indicates that it’s probably not a good idea. 

“That’s not a bad idea,” Kyungsoo nods, and Baekhyun wonders briefly if he’s blind. 

“Make it a potluck. I wanna know if they’ll magic up some food.” 

“You’re clearly not going to let this go, are you?” Kyungsoo sighs, shaking his head. “I didn’t want to do this, but follow me.” An order. A quick order at that, considering how Kyungsoo has already started walking away. 

“Show us what?” Chanyeol calls out. 

“What are you waiting for?” Baekhyun gestures towards Kyungsoo marching when Chanyeol shoots him a wide-eyed look, a silent cry for help. “Don’t worry I’ll come with you.” he sighs a beat later, and the two of them scramble to follow Kyungsoo.

They follow him down the dirt path, unsure of where he’s leading them. They continue in silence for minutes under the sun, and then he suddenly halts. Baekhyun skids to a stop, and Chanyeol stumbles to one. Kyungsoo points directly ahead, “Look ahead.” 

“What am I looking at here?” Chanyeol questions, eyebrow raised. He’s clearly immersed in his role as the nosy villager. Baekhyun just wants to go home and get his fruit cleaned up. 

What the trio’s looking at doesn’t seem to be a shocking sight. Slightly strange, if anything. 

Yixing is crouching down by the ramshackled fence, focusing on it with an intensity he can feel from here. Junmyeon is busy chatting with Jongdae’s grandma. He can see him slicing up an apple in even pieces. He’s smiling at whatever tale she seems to be telling him. Not a fake smile, not an awkward smile, an actual smile. As if her company is among his finest. 

“They’re helping the auntie,” Baekhyun marvels. “Isn’t that Jongdae’s grandma? Her fence has been broken for years…” 

“No one bothered to do anything, but look. Yixing’s fixing it better than any of us could ever.” Kyungsoo smiles, and it’s rare enough of an occurrence that both Baekhyun and Chanyeol do a double-take. There’s something inexplicably fond in the way Kyungsoo looks at them. “And while Yixing fixes the fence, Junmyeon chats with her. Looks genuine to me too.” 

“How long have they been doing this?” Chanyeol asks softly, and even he’s not too sure about why it feels like such a big deal. Why it almost feels like they’re intruding on something just by watching Junmyeon hold the auntie’s hand as she talks and he replies. There’s something intimate about the picture, as if Junmyeon was taking her loneliness away. 

“All day. I don’t know when exactly started but your aunt told me, Chanyeol. They came here for a day trip apparently, and ended up staying to fix problems one by one. Yixing fixed her fireplace. Junmyeon is basically her ner nephew. Now they’re fixing Jongdae’s grandma’s fence. Earlier I heard something about Missus Kim—” 

“Missus _Kim?”_ Baekhyun repeats in disbelief, his voice hushed. She was the nicest aunty of them all. Baked the best pies, made with Baekhyun’s fruit of course. He still delivered fruit to her even though she never answered the door. 

“She hasn’t been seen since—” _Her Son went off to fight in the war and never returned._ The words fill Chanyeol's mind but don’t dare to come out of his mouth. Chanyeol is rash, but not enough to state the tragic truth. He swallows nervously, “I haven’t heard anything about her in ages.” 

“Well that changed because of them. I heard the fixed her porch steps, got rid of the awfully creaky one.” 

“That… makes sense. In a way.” Baekhyun drums his fingers against his thigh. “I did notice how they fixed up Old Lee Sooman’s house… their work was impressive.” 

“Whatever it is, they're helping us out.” Kyungsoo looks pointedly at Chanyeol. “They brighten this village up, and you better not freak them out.” 

“Why would I freak them out!” Chanyeol protests, but Kyungsoo is having none of it.

“Something tells me they’ve got a lot of baggage, and you struggle to know what boundaries are.” Kyungsoo retaliates, words sharp. He’s got a point, Chanyeol did tend to get over-excited all the time, and forget about things like that. “Just don’t...push too hard ok? We’re all curious. But their preferences come first.” 

“Yessir,” Chanyeol mumbles sheepishly. 

“Good, now with that being said they’re getting up so I’m going to call them over.” 

“What—” 

“Junmyeon!” Kyungsoo calls clearly, with Baekhyun staring at him like a mad man. “Yixing!” He starts waving his hands. 

Junmyeon looks up, and smiles at Kyungsoo. His enthusiasm is not matched by Yixing, who keeps his expression straight. 

Or well, maybe his face was just always like that. 

Baekhyun equips his most handy dandy smile. Chanyeol was too thrown off to greet them properly, he still felt pretty flustered whenever they came around. “Hey guys.”

“Hi Kyungsoo,” Junmyeon nods. “Chanyeol and Baekhyun, right?” 

“You’re fast with names,” Baekhyun compliments, and he feels nice when Junmyeon seems pleasantly surprised by the compliment. Something about Junmyeon made Baekhyun want to never make him feel upset. Which was strange. But he’s pretty sure that Yixing would kill him if he managed to do so anyway. 

“I try my best, how are you guys?” 

The exchange pleasantries for a quick moment, the conversation lulling to a stop. 

“Ah, Baekhyun,” Junmyeon perks up. “The fruits were delightful, we enjoyed them. Thank you so much!” Yixing stays silent, and Baekhyun can’t help but notice his dirt-stained clothes. The stains are fresh, meaning he must have really helped everyone in the area.

“No problem, I can bring some over if you’d like.” He offers before thinking, and without a beat Kyungsoo rides off his words. 

“We were actually just talking about that,” Kyungsoo gestures at himself and Baekhyun. “And we are wondering if you guys would like to come over for dinner next week?” 

Junmyeon blinks in surprise, glances at Yixing, and smiles. “That’d be wonderful! What day?” 

“Tuesday,” Chanyeol answers, and it brings a sense of relief considering how suspiciously quiet he was. 

“Sounds good.” 

“Great,” Kyungsoo smiles. 

“Fantastic,” Baekhyun replies. 

“Amazing,” Chanyeol murmurs. 

“Well we’ll be off now,” Junmyeon loops his arm into Yixing’s. 

Yixing nods, “Glad to know you’re not at each other’s throats.” and something about his voice makes Baekhyun feel like he has to listen. 

“W—, me?” Baekhyun points at himself, and then he remembers the basket. Flying. Wanting to kill Chanyeol. “Oh,” he pauses, unsure of what to do. Kyungsoo is already glaring at Baekhyun, the same way his dad would. 

And then Yixing smiles. It’s more a smirk, but there’s a surprising appearance of dimples. Baekhyun isn't sure what's just happened, but he's starting to think Yixing was subtly making fun of him. Dare he say, _warming up_ to him. Junmyeon waves his fingers and they go off onto the path, headed towards their home on the hill. 

When they’re a good distance away, Kyungsoo turns around to face them, his expression annoyed. “You two tried to kill each other in front of the new people?” 

“It wasn’t like that—” 

“Yeah we swear,” Chanyeol pleads, but it’s no use. Kyungsoo basically already got them by the ears. 

"We’re going to have a nice long chat on hospitality and manners before this dinner.” 

“Dinner! How exciting,” Junmyeon can’t help the bubbling happiness inside him. He figured it would be difficult for them to get settled, but things were looking up. “I didn’t know they lived together.” 

“They don’t,” Yixing pushes their little gate open. 

“How do you— never mind.” Junmyeon shakes his head, and he’s got a little smile on his face. “They seem like nice people.” 

“Nice people. Nice village.” 

“Great,” Junmyeon responds cheekily, opening the door. 

“Fantastic,” Yixing replies in a monotone voice. 

“Amazing,” Junmyeon bites back a smile. “We’re being mean, aren’t we?.” 

Yixing shrugs, “Good people wouldn’t mind.” 

“We met a lot of good people today, didn’t we? Lovely aunties, really. But still…” Junmyeon purses her lips. “There was that one auntie…” 

“Missus Kim.” Yixing answers, setting the vegetable basket down. 

“Surely we can do something.” Junmyeon looks as upset as he feels. And he feels downright crushed. “That poor lady… not knowing what happened to her son.” Junmyeon closes his eyes, as if he’s letting the darkness blanket him. 

“We could send word to Minseok, if you’d like.” 

Junmyeon opens his eyes slowly. “It’s the least we could do. Find out if he’s,” Junmyeon hesitates, unwilling to finish his thought. 

“Don’t dwell on it too long,” Yixing murmurs, “We’ll do what we can, _from here.”_ He looks Junmyeon in the eyes, making his point known. 

“From here.” Junmyeon repeats. 

“As villagers,” Yixing says, and the words mean more than they seem. "He wouldn't mind. He certainly wants to hear from you."

“He would want a lot of things." 

"Most of all for you to write to him." 

"I'll get started on that letter," Junmyeon sighs. "It's about time anyways." 

Yixing nods, but he doesn’t voice his agreement. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve talked to my dear brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is doing well, especially during these times! hopefully this chapter can provide a lil happiness :)


	3. Dinner Dinner

“Dinner, dinner” Baekhyun mumbles under his breath, staring at Kyungsoo’s long wooden table. It was made by his Father and gifted to him when he had moved out. Kyungsoo loved it to bits. Actually, he loved it to perfection. Making sure that every inch was spotless and clean, not a single speck of dust was on it. The problem with the table was it was just too long. Benches on either side, but there was no appropriate place for Baekhyun to place his fruit basket. “Why dinner?” He grumbles, studiously studying the table. 

“What’s the problem with dinner?” Chanyeol pipes up, eyebrows scrunched. He’s flopped across three worn down chairs, exhausted from cleaning the house. 

“Dinner means _inside,”_ Baekhyun stresses. “Dinner means eating on Kyungsoo’s prized table. Dinner means there’s no way for me to place this fruit basket without it being awkwardly out of reach for _everyone.”_ Damn this table. Blessings towards Kyungsoo’s father, but damn this table. 

“I think you’re thinking too much,” Chanyeol comments, now getting up and laying down languidly on one of the benches beside the table. “Couldn’t we just ask Kyungsoo if we can have dinner in his backyard like we normally do?” 

Baekhyun glares at him, pushing his feet off the bench. “He specifically says it has to be inside.” This dinner had to go well. They needed a good atmosphere, great food, and a fruit basket that wasn’t awkwardly centered in order to make the new couple feel at home.“ and besides. I’m thinking just the right amount,” Baekhyun retorts, setting the basket on the table. “You watch that, I’m going to go see what Kyungsoo thinks.” 

“He’ll agree with me!” Chanyeol calls out, and Baekhyun just stomps away. 

Kyungsoo has just finished cooking up an absolute storm in the kitchen. The smell of freshly cooked meat and veggies nearly makes Baekhyun’s mouth water. Nearly. His mind is too filled up with worries. 

“Kyungsoo,” he begins. 

“It’ll go fine. They’re nice people.” Kyungsoo’s eyes rake over each dish. They look delicious, as always. 

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he says grimly. 

“Then what— oh.” Now Kyungsoo looks at Baekhyun, “Jongdae? It is unlike him to be late.” 

Baekhyun nods. 

Jongdae was a dear member of their friend group. Normally just as lively as them, but he had been off ever since his cousin had gone to the war and never returned. He was Missus Kim’s nephew. 

They were close, probably closer than Jongdae was to them. He didn’t even want his cousin to go off in the first place. Eventually, although Baekhyun can’t pinpoint the exact moment when, he must’ve realized the chances of his cousin's return was slim. 

His grief was understandable, but it pained Baekhyun’s heart regardless. 

“He’ll be fine,” Kyungsoo’s voice goes soft. It normally did when it came to Jongdae. “Has he met them yet?” 

“Nope.” 

They turn around and there Chanyeol is, leaning against the kitchen door frame. He’s the only one tall enough to fill out the full length of it. 

“Hello Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo greets as if Chanyeol hasn’t been slaving away to his every demand for the last day and a bit. “Why don’t you set these dishes on the table for me, please?” 

Chanyeol shrugs, and motions with his head for Baekhyun to follow suit. 

“Do you know when Jongdae will be here?” 

“Present!” A voice cheerfully calls out, and Baekhyun turns to see Jongdae standing at the door, one hand stuffed into his pocket, the other holding a big jug of juice. The smile on his face doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and it hasn’t for a long time. 

“Jongdae!” Chanyeol cries out, setting the food down and rushing to envelop his friend in a giant-sized hug. Jongdae reciprocates with just as much fervor. 

“Chanyeol,” he nods, “Baek. I hope you two are helping Soo out,” 

“They have been,” Kyungsoo follows suit, carrying the rest of the dishes. “Surprisingly.” 

“Where are your glasses?” Baekhyun asks immediately, noting how his round frames are not present. 

“I lost them,” Jongdae smiles sheepishly. 

“Jongdae,” Baekhyun begins, eyes scrunched. “You literally can’t see without them.” It was true, Jongdae was pretty much dead without them. Everything he saw became blobbish shapes.

“Hence why I’m late,” Jongdae laughs, and a fraction of Baekhyun’s stress melts away. 

“Luckily I have an extra pair,” Kyungsoo whips out a pair of glasses from his pocket. 

“How—” 

“Don’t ask questions.” 

“Alright then,” Jongdae slips the glasses on. “This is just like old times, eh? Kyungsoo’s cooking… dinner at _the_ table,”

“We literally did this last week,” Kyungsoo deadpans at the same time Baekhyun pipes up. 

“Except for our guests,” 

“Guests?” Jongdae sounds confused. 

“The new people.” 

“The new people?” Jongdae repeats, and Baekhyun frowns. 

“Our guests, the new people?” Baekhyun says slowly, “I thought Chanyeol told you.” 

Silence is his answer. 

He turns towards Chanyeol. “You did tell him, didn’t you?” 

Chanyeol looks quite pale in the sunlight, and for the fifth time that week, Baekhyun wants to reach over and just kill him. 

“By the goddess, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo groans, “You were supposed to fill him in!” 

“I didn’t even know we _had_ new people in the village!” Jongdae exclaims, eyes wide. “And they’re coming over tonight?” He quickly looks down at himself. “I’m not wearing proper… guest meeting clothes!” 

“You look fine,” Kyungsoo reassures him, “But if you didn’t know, why did you bring so much juice?” 

“How did you not know?” Baekhyun questions, “It’s all anyone has been talking about for the past _two weeks.”_

“I’ve been at the Clearing for the past week, plus,” Jongdae glances over Chanyeol, _“You_ don’t look guest-ready either,” he points out, “I thought I brought a regular amount though?” 

Kyungsoo eyes the size of the jug that’s now resting on the table. “That’s definitely not a regular amount.” 

“This is my nice shirt!” Chanyeol exclaims, waving his arms around to showcase the short sleeves. “And my nice pants!” He sticks his leg out to show them off. They’re probably his only pair that isn’t dirt-stained. 

“Hold up!” Baekhyun yells, looking at Jongdae. “What in the name of the Sea were you doing all the way in the Clearing? In the middle of nowhere?” The Clearing was an old army base set up just South of their village. It was overrun with tall trees and wilderness for as far as the eye can see. No one went there unless they wanted an experience close to death, or worse. 

“Chanyeol by the Goddess,” Kyungsoo wrinkles his nose. “You really need to go clothes shopping. I can take you, next Sunday?” Kyungsoo muses. 

“I’ve been going over my cousin’s research,” Jongdae starts, and Chanyeol, Kyungsoo, and Baekhyun alike turn to look at each other in warning. But Jongdae leaves it at that, doesn't dwell on his feelings for long. As it turns out, it wasn’t just Jongdae who was smart, his entire family was. “Turns out he had this little cabin there, filled with research. I’ve never seen anything like it. Languages I haven’t even seen yet _but,”_ The passionate spark in Jongdae’s eyes become dull. “No amount of intelligence can save us from illegible handwriting.” 

“That still doesn’t mean,” Baekhyun cuts himself off with a sigh. “The Clearing?” 

“Ok well never mind that!” Jongdae looks panicked. “Fill me in! Quickly!” 

“Well… what do you want to know?” Chanyeol’s eyebrows are furrowed. 

“Anything. _Everything._ As much as you can tell me before they come,” 

“Their names are Junmyeon and Yixing,” Kyungsoo says. 

Silence. 

Jongdae looks at Chanyeol and Baekhyun expectantly. “And?” 

Kyungsoo opens his mouth, and closes it. “That’s it, I think.” 

Jongdae stares at Kyungsoo incredulously. “You barely said anything!” 

“I said the most important bit of information!” Kyungsoo huffs, Indignant. 

_“Never mind that!”_ Jongdae yells, snapping everyone’s attention towards him. “Do you know anything else _besides_ their names?”

“Well, um,” Chanyeol stammers, either flustered or frightened by Jongdae’s growing frustration. 

“That’s… that’s a good question,” Kyungsoo looks as baffled as Baekhyun feels. 

“They like peaches?” Baekhyun starts uncertainly. 

“They’re very good with their hands,” Chanyeol pipes up. 

“They also got all the village aunties head over heels in love?” 

Jongdae looks at them, disbelief written all over his face. “That’s it?” 

“That can’t be it,” Baekhyun frowns, glancing at Kyungsoo. 

“That, no. We must know more?” Kyungsoo looks to Chanyeol. 

“Don’t look at me,” Chanyeol holds his hands up. “You guys tell me to shut up the moment they come around.” 

“By the Goddess,” Jongdae marvels, saying his word slowly. “You. Three. Morons.” He throws his hands up in the air. “Why wouldn’t you tell me!” He demands, glaring at Chanyeol. 

“I just— I forgot? I’ve had a lot of things on my mind lately, which you might know,” 

“Like what?” Jongdae demands, looking at Kyungsoo and Baekhyun as if they have answers. 

“Don’t look at us,” Kyungsoo shakes his head. 

“His...theories?” Baekhyun tries to be helpful, but it has the opposite effect. 

“His _theories?”_ Jongdae is all but shrieking now. “Just what has been fueling those? The sky? The— the _pebbles?_ He hasn’t had theory material since—“ 

“They showed up,” Chanyeol winces. 

This stops Jongdae’s tirade right in its tracks. “Your theories are about _them?_ Why?” 

“Well you see—“ 

A knock on the door Interrupts their conversation. Baekhyun can clearly see the flash of panic that runs through Jongdae’s eyes.

“Oh Goddess,” Jongdae mumbles like the beginning of a prayer. “Save us all.” 

“You answer the door,” Chanyeol hisses, at Kyungsoo. 

Kyungsoo frowns, “Let Jongdae, this is a good way to meet them.” 

“There is no way— there is no way,” Jongdae repeats, quieter than the first. “I’m opening that door by myself.” 

“I’ll do it with you?” Baekhyun volunteers. That’s it all it takes for Jongdae to drag Baekhyun to the door, and fling it open. His glasses slide down his nose and Baekhyun wants to prop them back up. 

“Hello,” Baekhyun greets as pleasantly as he can while Kyungsoo bores holes into his back with his gaze. They cleaned up rather nicely. Clean white shirts and tan pants. Junmyeon’s got a handkerchief of sorts tied around his neck, and Yixing has a matching one hanging out of his front pocket. 

Jongdae is silent, staring dumbly. 

“Hello,” Junmyeon smiles, “We weren’t sure if we have the right house,” 

“This certainly is the right house, you’re right on time too.” 

Jongdae is still staring dumbly.

‘We brought flowers!” Junmyeon says breathlessly, and Yixing pulls a bouquet out from behind his back. They’re clearly handpicked, no fancy packaging, and Baekhyun recognizes the flowers as the ones that grow on the coast. Tall and pretty, yellow and bright. It’s endearing to think about how they must have spent a long time trying to find them. 

“They’re wonderful,” Baekhyun smiles warmly, and when he glances beside him Jongdae is all open-mouthed at starry eyes. He elbows Jongde deftly —right between his ribs— to get him to snap out of it. 

Jongdae blinks in realization and smiles the sunniest smile Baekhyun has seen in a long time from him. “Thank you,” he accepts them gratefully, even though Baekhyun is pretty sure those are for Kyungsoo. “Welcome to Kyungsoo’s home!” He cheers as if it’s his own, and it might as well be. Junmyeon smiles in response, and Yixing looks pensive. 

When the couple enters, Baekhyun starts to follow them. Jongdae pinches Baekhyun’s sleeve, and Baekhyun turns to look at him with startled eyes. 

“Why,” Jongdae starts off in a low whisper. “Did no one tell me they were so _attractive?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will probably have the dinner scene in the next chapter but honestly no promises 
> 
> I hope everyone is keeping and safe and healthy during these times!!


	4. a toast

It starts off a bit awkwardly. 

So,” Jongdae begins. He’s smiling at the couple but his eyes are silently telling everyone else to shut up. The daggers are still very prominent in his eyes, and there’s no doubt that the three of them will get it from him later. “I’m Jongdae! Nice to meet you.” He holds his hand out in the traditional greeting. 

Junmyeon squeezes his hand once, and Yixing follows. “I’m Junmyeon, and this is Yixing.” Yixing nods in greeting, face as serious as ever. 

And from there it all becomes easier. 

It’s not as awkward as Baekhyun anticipated. Given how Jongdae had spent the first few minutes looking constipated and glaring daggers at Chanyeol, it could be worse. They’re all seated around the table, and Baekhyun appreciates how no one is willing to let the conversation still. It flows easily between all of them, weaving in and out as questions of _who_ and _where_ , _when_ and _how_ are exchanged from all sides.

Everyone is happily helping themselves to the food Kyungsoo prepared— which is as delicious as ever. Melting in everyone’s mouths and leaving them with one option only: serving more. 

Junmyeon starts about how they moved in a few weeks, filling Jongdae in. Two weeks ago to be precise. And in their two weeks here Jongdae spent his time in the middle of the forest doing something only the Goddess would know. Researching something only the Goddess would know, cut off from all society. 

So maybe Baekhyun is more than a little worried for Jongdae’s wellbeing. 

“So what have you done so far?” Kyungsoo asks conversationally, looking a little apologetic. “There aren’t many things to do here, unfortunately.” 

“There’s more than enough to keep us occupied,” Junmyeon replies, patting Yixing’s arm like he’s making sure he’s still there. “It’s surprisingly busy.”

“Have you been by the Sunday Market?” Jongdae questions, reaching over for a platter. “It’s probably the biggest event here, I would say.” 

“I’ll say,” Junmyeon laughs, a cute tinkling sound. “I heard it was hectic, but I wasn’t expecting it to be so _busy.”_

“Or so cutthroat, eh?” Chanyeol pipes up, mouth full of salad. 

“That too!” Junmyeon exclaims, “I was expecting some sort of… well, order. It was complete chaos.” 

“If you’re not cutthroat you won’t get your goods for the week,” Baekhyun adds, pouring himself more water. 

“Your fruit stand was incredibly busy,” Junmyeon nods along to Baekhyun’s words, “I can’t imagine how harsh the people are when it comes to your fruits.” 

“Baekhyun has the best fruit stand in all of the village,” Kyungsoo pipes up, looking oddly proud of Baekhyun. “The real secret is to approach him on saturday night, right after the sun sets when he’s taking stock.” 

“That’s when you _really_ get the best fruits,” Chanyeol adds, nodding away in agreement. “Special discount and all.” 

“Careful now,” Baekhyun comments lightly, “Don’t give away all my secrets.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Junmyeon looks over at Baekhyun, a twinkle in his eyes. Suddenly, having a few more people knowing about Baekhyun’s little (sort-of illegal) behind the scenes deal isn’t so bad after all. Especially when Baekhyun already knows they like peaches, and subtly keeps some aside just for the couple anyways. 

“So,” Jongdae serves himself more potatoes, a lot of potatoes actually. He’s something of a stress eater. “Sunday Market experience aside, what brought you to our humble little village?” 

Baekhyun glances at Kyungsoo over the rim of his wooden cup, and Kyungsoo’s face reads the same way: Jongdae is asking the questions everyone wants to know. Which is why Jongdae was the elected smart one amongst them all, because he understood that he’s not being nosy considering how they just met. Everyone else had lost that perfect but brief window of opportunity to ask these sorts of questions. Jongdae was in the nice beginning stages, while Kyungsoo, Chanyeol, and Baekhyun alike were in the awkward getting-to-know them stage. 

“Well...I actually used to come here sometimes when I was little,” Junmyeon muses. “And we needed a break and the first thought that came to my mind was here,” Junmyeon glances at Yixing briefly, his lips forming a small smile. “It’s perfect for the break we need.” 

“Well, I can say you came to the right place for that.” Kyungsoo pipes up, smiling at them.

“What can I say?” Junmyeon shrugs, “Something about this place was unforgettable. And it sort of...stuck with me since then.” 

“Really?” Chanyeol asks, watching as Kyungsoo reaches over and hands them a dish so they can eat more. “I can’t imagine anything about here sticking with anyone, to be honest.” 

“You’d be surprised,” Junmyeon says, placing the dish down carefully. “How much of an impact this place has had on me. I knew I’d come back to visit one day.” 

“Ah,” Jongdae clicks his tongue in agreement, reaching over for a loaf of bread as if he didn't have a whole plate full of potato pieces. “So this isn’t a permanent move?” 

Baekhyun’s fingers still around his fork, and he glances over at the couple curiously. He can see that Chanyeol’s interest has also been piqued. 

Jongdae’s searching for something. An answer, a specific one, to a question nobody but him knows. It’s clear to Baekhyun, and it’s clear to Chanyeol and Kyungsoo too. He gathers from how the three of them haven't stopped glancing at each other for a few minutes. A silent game of either figuring out the question, or letting it be. 

Junmyeon and Yixing seem oblivious to Jongdae’s subtle prying. Answering his questions in polite ease. 

“Oh it’s very permanent,” Junmyeon chuckles, “The capital life can only keep you occupied for so long after all.” 

The gasp Chanyeol let’s out, small but excited and amazed, is something that resonates with all their friends. Even Kyungsoo’s— who seldom got surprised— eyes have rounded. 

“You’re from the capital?!” Chanyeol marvels, butter knife in his hand forgotten. “And you moved _here?”_

Baekhyun has half the mind to glare or scold him, but it _is_ the question that was on everyone’s mind anyways. 

The capital was the bustling centre of the kingdom. A completely different life compared to their small rural town. Smooth stone paths lined up with houses and bakeries. A life filled with socials and parties, festivals which Baekhyun can only _dream_ about attending because it’s so far. Bustling with business and life, the capital was the heart and soul of the kingdom, a place where pride for their nation ran strong. Even stronger, now that they had won the war. It was the residence for the royal palace as well (a building described to be so big the tip scraped the bottom of clouds), where the king— the actual _king_ (a person who out here, was basically just a legend for ears only) resided. 

If their village was compared to the capital, it would be nothing, Baekhyun muses. He can’t imagine why they would move from such a fun-loving, bustling life to here. The middle of nowhere surrounded by scary forests and a never-ending sea. As a cute little beach trip? _Maybe._ But a permanent home? No. Baekhyun wouldn’t recommend that, because as much as he loved his life and routine, his childhood friends and their chaos— this life wasn’t meant for everyone. Just like life in the capital wasn’t meant for everyone either, apparently. 

“By the goddess,” Kyungsoo blurts out, manners momentarily forgotten. “Why would you do that?” 

“Ah, well,” Junmyeon seems a bit flustered, tapping his fingers slowly against the wooden table. If his mannerisms don’t show how nervous he is, the way Yixing’s gaze slides over to him (his eyes calm but alert to Junmyeon’s tapping and stammering) is. “It can get quite… it can be a lot.” 

“I can only imagine how overwhelming it must be,” Baekhyun chimes in, hoping he’s helping him out. The unwanted attention doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“But moving from there to hear?” Chanyeol whistles lowly, “That must have been a huge change.” 

“If you had told us earlier we would have treated you like royalty,” Kyungsoo chuckles. 

“Oh,” Junmyeon almost flinches, but instead his eyes round and there’s a flush creeping into his skin. “We wouldn’t want that from anyone. Everyone has been lovely to us anyways.” 

“Would have been better then being treated as the new people up the hill, though.” Kyungsoo takes a sip of Jongdae’s juice. The big jug pushed off near the side of the table so nobody’s view was obscured. 

“To be fair they _are_ the new people up the hill.” Chanyeol points out. 

“That is true,” Junmyeon nods. 

“So you moved here because you needed a break, huh?” Baekhyun reaches over across the table for another plate. “A break from what?” 

The silence that follows, is unexpected. And Baekhyun doesn’t even notice he’s asked something that’s apparently wrong until he looks over at Junmyeon. His sunny disposition is fading away. Grey clouds roll in, raindrops waiting to pour. 

“The war?” Jongdae questions suddenly, his voice soft. He sounds shocked, like he can’t quite believe either Junmyeon’s reaction or the words that came from his mouth.

Baekhyun can already pick up the change in his tone. He’s choosing his words carefully as if they’ll sting, weighing them on his tongue before he says them out loud. Which means he’s about to ask a sensitive question, the one he’s been trying to get the answer for—

“Did you move here because of the war?” Jongdae looks up from his buttered up bread, his expression softening the blow of a question he really, shouldn’t have asked. “If you don’t mind me asking,” he adds hastily, but his tone is dulled like he’s already furthering the distance between him and everyone at the table. 

Junmyeon stares at Jongdae and at the same time it looks like Jongdae is also trying hard to keep his face calm, and devoid of emotion, but he can’t. The grief from the loss of his cousin still took fresh. The sympathy on his face is as apparent as the silent answer to his question. 

Baekhyun wants to scream, yell, do something to distract them. The war was _over._ Their side had _won_ — something he won’t be able to ever forget because Chanyeol was so invested in it. Why would they move here from the capital right after the war and not _during_ it? Maybe this is something Baekhyun would understand if he had fought in it  
but he didn’t.

“Yes.” 

Baekhyun startles from his thoughts, and he’s glancing over at the couple because Junmyeon is looking at Yixing carefully, and it was _Yixing_ who had answered. 

His face is impressively expressionless. Like always. But there’s something in his eyes, he’s not looking at Jongdae in anger or rage, but it almost looks like _pity._ Like he’s _pitying_ Jongdae. And somehow, Baekhyun knows in his heart that Yixing can instantly tell from the pain written all over Jongdae’s face about his cousin. He has picked up the cues and recognises the pain in Jongdae —maybe because he himself experienced the same pain. 

Of course the more Baekhyun thinks about it the more it makes sense. The war’s impact had reached the outskirts of their village, he can’t imagine how much it had impacted the capital as well. At the end of the day however, it’s still none of Baekhyun’s business. 

“So you two fought in the war?” Chanyeol questions a mix of eager and hesitant, and Baekhyun can feel his heart pounding. This idiot. This bumbling, absolute, grown idiot of a man. It’s impossible to be blind to how Junmyeon shifts awkwardly, the hesitation scrawled all over his face. 

And more than that, Jongdae. The way his hands tighten over his mug, knuckles going white. He still wasn’t over the loss of his cousin. Baekhyun is seething, and he can see Kyungsoo seems perturbed too. Like he’s fully ready to drag Chanyeol out by his ears, and scold hi8m until his ears bleed. But he’s not changing the subject. No one is, because they can all admit they want to know. 

“Yes, actually,” Junmyeon looks down at the table, “We did fight in it.” 

Something in Baekhyun’s heart twangs. He almost wants to reach out, and squeeze Junmyeon’s hands. Try to convey that even if he will never understand the pain of having to directly witness one of the most devastating wars in history, he can still sympathize. Even though they weren’t as major as the capital, the war still had its own effects on their little town. A war so big, so impactful that the effects had impacted them as well. 

And now Junmyeon is clearing his throat, pulling himself together looking as though the dip in his mood never happened. “Luckily that’s all behind us now.” He’s smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. The silence Yixing offers, is more scary than reassuring. “And we’ve clearly come to a better place.” 

“Well,” Jongdae pauses, looking a little too thoughtful a little too late. “Thank the goddess it’s over then, right?” 

_“Many_ thanks to the goddess,” Chanyeol hums, tilting his cup towards Jongdae in a silent gesture of acknowledgement. “We wouldn’t be here without her.” 

"She certainly helped..." Junmyeon trails off, looking hesitant somehow.

“We should do a toast,” Kyungsoo blinks, like he’s pulling himself together at Junmyeon’s blatant change of subject. He smiles wryly, loosening the mood by a few, very helpful fractions. 

“Let’s do a toast then,” Baekhyun blurts out, still feeling a heavy coil of anxiety in his stomach. He gestures for Kyungsoo to pour out the drinks for everyone. 

Kyungsoo does so, silently pouring the drinks with practised ease. Jongdae’s fingers are still wrapped tightly around his cup, but he raises it up in thanks anyway. 

“To the goddess,” Kyungsoo lifts up his cup, taking a deep breath. “For feeding us well.” 

“To the goddess,” Junmyeon murmurs, “For keeping us safe.”

Baekhyun isn't sure if he's imagining the slight frown on Yixing's face, or if the light is playing tricks on his eyes.

“To the goddess,” Baekhyun starts, but he’s distracted by the hurt in Junmyeon’s eyes. Like his toast wasn’t heartfelt in the slightest— and Baekhyun can understand why. “For good times to come .” 

“How peaceful,” Chanyeol comments, but he’s looking at Baekhyun with appreciation. “To the goddess, for bringing us new friends.” 

He looks over at Jongdae expectant.

“To the goddess,” Jongdae lifts his cup into the air slightly, “And for the end of a dark era, that will lead to peace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and just like the the introductory phase of this fic is finished :) no more order just useless brain dump of feel good moments that slowly reveal the 'plot' >:)


	5. Gardening & Gossiping

Kyungsoo’s day always starts earlier than it needs to. He never complains, because honestly that’s the lifestyle he’s always adhered too. He’s an early riser at heart, a habit taught to him by his Grandfather. He’s normally shuffling out of bed when the roosters start crowing away and his cat is meowing on top of him to be let out the house. (A cute, white fluffy ball that Baekhyun adores almost more than he does). In his daily ritual he normally prepares the chicken feed, and cranks open the window so his cat can leap out to roam around. 

But today is a little different. Today, or well, the previous night, it had taken Kyungsoo hours to fall asleep. Rolling around in his bed, sticking a leg out under the sheets in an attempt to cool off, nothing worked. He had eventually managed to drift off into a light slumber but of course, he had woken up fitfully not long after. The sun isn’t even out yet, the rooster’s aren’t crowing, and his cat is still happily asleep beside him. It seems that any hope for sleep at this hour is lost. 

Kyungsoo shuffles out of bed blearily, throwing on a lumpy sweater (A well loved gift from Jongdae, who had attempted to knit it himself) and getting himself morning-ready, even if it’s more like way-too-early-in-the-morn-ready. He stumbles down his hallway to the kitchen, fixes himself a nice cup of tea, and quietly leaves his house. 

It’s early, a fact officially confirmed by how there are no elderly people for him to greet on his path. Yes, Kyungsoo was synched to the old grandparents and such in the village, and yes, he rather enjoyed that. No matter if he slept poorly, Kyungsoo takes it in stride. There’s no use if he complains about something that’s out of his control. Plus, the serenity of the village is unmatched in these hours: when the sky is just starting to weasel out of the darkness and the air is crisp in the morning. 

Kyungsoo walks wherever his feet take him. Past Baekhyun’s cozy house, and Chanyeol’s which is right next to it. He walks a little further and there’s where Jongdae should be, but he’s probably already headed out to the clearing. That was a worrisome little part of Kyungsoo’s life, but he refuses to meddle. So long as Jongdae just doesn’t stay the night in the Clearing. 

Soon, Kyungsoo finds himself at the edge of the village, walking up the stone steps that lead up the otherwise unclimbable hills. There was a time (when he was a kid) where he felt shivers just so much as looking up the stairs. Now that there were newer, and nicer, people occupying the land he feels much safer. 

Now, he really had meant to just take a quick peek. Maybe see what all the fuss about the gate and the tidied house was about but he stops in his tracks, fingers still curled around his tea cup as he stares at what’s going on in front of him. Or well, moreso to the side of what’s in front of him. 

It’s Junmyeon by the looks of it, besides a small area of cleared out land. He’s muttering to himself, words Kyungsoo is too far to hear. And he seems well, stressed. He seems extremely confused, and his eyebrows are way too furrowed considering the early hours of the day. 

There would be no nice way for Kyungsoo to call out Junmyeon’s attention without it being too loud, and he’s not just going to stand here and watch him creepily in the hopes that the other will notice him standing. Kyungsoo sighs quietly at his choices, willing himself to just get it over. He can’t just return back down the stairs either— what if Junmyeon saw him? And then he assumed the worst? It’s exactly the kind of thing Kyungsoo would scold anyone else for doing: being rude. 

“Junmyeon?” Kyungsoo calls out tentatively, admittedly regretting it when the spade in Junmyeon’s hand falls out of fright. He winces at the same time Junmyeon does. Junmyeon turns around, his bewildered expression smoothing into confusion and then recognition at Kyungsoo, his lumpy sweater, and mug. 

“Kyungsoo?” Junmyeon blinks, looking pleasantly surprised. He’s also wearing a sweater, there’s a few knitted patches but it seems rather cozy. Lived in, dare Kyungsoo say. 

“Morning,” Kyungsoo greets, a bit awkward. “Or early morning.”

“Well,” Junmyeon glances at the sky, and there’s no doubt he’s wondering about why Kyungsoo is up. Kyungsoo is wondering the same thing about him though. “Early Morning indeed. What brings you here?” 

“Ah,” Kyungsoo feels sheepish now. Like he’s intruding on something even though it’s Junmyeon and… whatever he was trying to do. “I couldn’t sleep, I thought a morning stroll would help.” 

Junmyson rests back on his feet, a friendly smile spreading on his face. “And did it?”

“Not quite,” Kyungsoo takes a sip of his tea. It’s gone cold but it’s still quite nice. “And you? What brings you out at this hour?” 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Junmyeon shrugs, “So i figured I might as well try to do something.” Junmyeon’s face lights up the second after, and he looks at Kyungsoo with shining eyes. “You could help me actually! Well, only if you want to, but...I need all the help I can get.” 

“Sure,” Kyungsoo agrees, “With what?” 

Junmyeon gestures at the empty lot beside him, “This.” 

Kyungsoo can’t fight the amusement that creeps up on his face. He strides over, placing his tea cup on a lone tree trunk stump before reaching Junmyeon. “What exactly is this?” It’s just a medium-sized patch of dirt really. Leveled and rid of grass, it could be anything. A porch, a snare site, maybe even a little pond of Junmyeon wanted one. 

“Hopefully, this will be my future garden.” Junmyeon smiles tentatively, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. “I will admit,” Junmyeon chuckles, but he still looks rather defeated. “I’ve never done anything like this before in my entire life. So I’m finding it rather difficult.” 

Never gardened? That was a sentence that was never heard around these parts. But considering how the couple came from the capital, Kyungsoo’s not surprised. Nor is he judging! He would be a fool to look down on people so easily. Gardening was a gift in Kyungsoo’s well biased opinion, so whoever he could teach it too, he would. 

“Well, everyone starts somewhere, right?” Kyungsoo smiles, kneeling down beside Junmyeon carefully. 

Junmyeon sighs, resting back on his heels. The knee areas of his pants are dirt stained and by the looks of it his hands are too. He wipes his hands carefully, looking at Kyungsoo with hopeful eyes.

“Well for starters, at least you’re not afraid to get your hands dirty,” Kyungsoo chuckles.

“Oh this?” Junmyeon waggles his fingers playfully. “This is nothing.” 

“Compared too?” Kyungsoo questions back teasingly, his eyebrow arched. 

“Oh, you wouldn’t want to know.” Junmyeon waves him off playfully.

Kyungsoo laughs at that, busting out a smile. “Do you know what kind of garden you want?” 

“What kind?” Junmyeon questions back incredulously. “Oh my, I never thought about that. One of the village aunties gave me some seeds and I thought, well,” Now it’s Junmyeon who’s becoming sheepish. Clearly out of his comfort zone. “I guess I should have checked with her.” 

“We’ll start simple,” Kyungsoo pauses to think. “There are different types. As you know, Baekhyun grows fruits in his orchard, I grow vegetables. You could always do that, or maybe flowers? Herbs?” 

“Oh, I do love Baekhyun’s fruits,” Junmyeon says wistfully, his fingers twisting the hem of his sweater. “And your vegetables are plenty enough. So maybe...what was it you said? Flowers?” 

“Flowers or herbs,” Kyungsoo repeats patiently. “Herbs would be useful, they always are. But flowers would be nice, they’ll certainly liven up the area.” You didn’t need to have an expert analytical eye to see that despite their efforts, the house wasn’t _quite_ as cozy as they wanted it to be. It certainly looked nicer, and was definitely in the process of getting to the point Junmyeon and Yixing wanted it to be at.

“We could use lively,” Junmyeon murmurs, nodding along with every word. “And Yixing does love colourful, lively things quite a bit. He certainly wouldn’t mind.” 

“He does?” Kyungsoo blurts out, unable to contain his surprise. It’s so hard to imagine that Yixing, the ever stoic and silent presence would even _look_ at colourful things. “I would have never guessed that!” Well, if Junmyeon wasn’t there he definitely wouldn’t have guessed that.

“He does,” Junmyeon grins, “Believe me, it was a shock to me as well. You see, he used to dress around in all these drab dark colours— oh he had such a terrible phase,” Junmyeon giggles, biting his lip to try and contain his laughter. “He would line his eyes black too, it made him look like a ghoul right out of a children’s book! Picture this: Yixing covered in black, strolling through the most bright gardens in the Kingdom because he loves the sight of bright butterflies.” 

“No way,” Kyungsoo tries to smother his laughter into the seams of his sweater. “I bet you liked it though.” 

_“Immensely,”_ Junmyeon chuckles, “I thought it made him the most intimidating thing in all the kingdom. So naturally I wanted to try it out too! But it didn’t have the same effect at _all._ I ended up looking like a drowned cat. And when I tried to take the makeup off it just got worse.” 

“Surprisingly… I can picture that,” Kyungsoo shakes his head. “Did you dress up in dark garments too?” 

“I went all out.” Junmyeon looks at the ground fondly. “Dark clothes, dark makeup, even tried to act all gloomy and such but I couldn’t pull it off.” 

“What’d he say? How’d he _react?”_ Kyungsoo presses, unable to contain his curiosity and excitement. 

“You know what he did?” Junmyeon closes his eyes, smiling. “He took one good look at me and asked me if I had suffered a head trauma recently. He was insisting I go get checked out but the,” Junmyeon pauses, his eyes fluttering open. “The... medic? Doctor? Is that what they’re called here?” 

“Doctor,” Kyungsoo confirms. He has no idea why Junmyeon would think it’d be called anything different, but Kyungsoo pushes it aside into the ‘different upbringings' category of things he probably would never understand about Junmyeon. “That must have been, well, mortifying.” 

“Unlike anything before,” Junmyeon agrees, “I must have been beet red, repeating over and over again that I was fine. Of course Yixing had found it all extremely funny while I was embarrassed to the _core.”_

“Certainly you’ve tried after that?” Kyungsoo teases, crossing his legs comfortably. A glance at the sky reveals 

“Not a chance,” Junmyeon sing-songs. “I think that was enough humiliation to last a lifetime. After that I let him keep the gloomy theatrics, I had no need for them.” 

“Intimidating just isn’t your strong suit,” Kyungsoo shrugs. “To each their own.”

“Quite right,” Junmyeon nods in agreement. “Trust me, he needed to intimidate a lot more than I did.” 

“I can see that,” Kyungsoo admits, because he can. Maybe back in the capital Yixing had a stricter occupation Like a patrol officer, or judge in the courts, needing to use his outward appearance to cement his superiority in position. The war was certainly bad enough that people of all backgrounds had been drafted. Maybe Junmyeon was a doctor, or a boutique owner? Friendliness was required for both. “It’s quite believable.” 

“His character speaks for itself,” Junmyeon shrugs. “The only thing it doesn’t speak for is his genuine love for all things bright.” 

“Which brings us back to flowers!” Kyungsoo snaps his fingers, suddenly remembering the original topic. “If you’d like, you can accompany me to this week’s Sunday Market. There’s bound to be a seed vendor with flowers out there.” 

“Oh, that would be wonderful. Thank you,” Junmyeon clasps his hands together, and Kyungsoo likes how Junmyeon seems genuinely pleased. “I’ll be sure to remember it.” 

“Great,” Kyungsoo smiles. “Oh, and do tell Yixing as well. I think it’s best if he tags along with us.” 

“You wouldn’t mind if he comes with us?” Junmyeon asks, “I was thinking of asking but I didn’t want to impose. But it really would be great, he just about adores the Sunday Market.” 

“Considering how he’s the one who’ll be admiring the flowers the most, it’s only right he comes with us.” Kyungsoo explains, but he honestly has no problem with Yixing tagging along. In fact, Yixing seems like the type of person who could scare vendors into giving them a discount— which works out plenty in their favour. 

“Sunday it is then?” 

“Sunday it is.” 

When Kyungsoo looks up at the sky, it’s glowing a pretty mixture of pink and orange. A sure sign that the sun is beginning to rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whipped this short chapter super quickly today, so sorry for any typos!!!


	6. Journaling & Jam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a teeny change in ch 4 to suit some stuff that’ll come up later better, don't mind it ehe

Chanyeol has a part time job at the village paper. It’s a small thing, filled with more gossip than news and more recipes than gossip, but he likes it a lot for multiple reasons he lists all the time whenever Jongdae suggests he research with him instead.

> 1\. It’s like a fun project. He has the freedom to explore the ‘creative side’ of his brain, a benefit he boasts about all the time with Baekhyun — who merely rolls his eyes in annoyance. 

> 2\. It gives Chanyeol an excuse to do what he loves the most: talk. Whether it’s idle chit-chat, yapping away with grandmothers who won’t let him leave without force feeding him five helpings of their iconic apple pie, or theorizing away with some friends. The job leaves plenty of room for talking. 

> 3\. The pocket money. For obvious reasons. 

And finally,

> 4\. “Sleuthing” (essentially, him being nosy). It lets Chanyeol sneak around the village, the Clearing (not that anyone knows Chanyeol hangs out there from time to time, sometimes to check on Jongdae, most times it’s not) and basically hear about everything without anyone finding it to be an issue. Thanks to his handy-dandy excuse: the newspaper.

Except right now, the sleuthing and sneaking Chanyeol’s doing is completely unrelated to the paper. Maybe the subject of his curiosity can be a featured side-story for their holiday special or something. In fact, he can already see the headline: _‘Park Chanyeol sneaks around to dig up information on Zhang Yixing… or so he tries.’_

What a horrible headline actually, his brain wasn’t winning any points for that one. 

Horrible headline aside, it _did_ sum up what Chanyeol was doing quite nicely. He had been (without anyone knowing of course, because Kyungsoo would kill him, and Baekhyun would glower at him even while his dead limp body was being lowered into the ground) following Yixing around all morning. Of course he didn’t _mean_ to. It’s not like he woke up this morning and thought to himself, _hmm what a great day to stalk Yixing._ It just so happened to work out that way. 

While Chanyeol was collecting his weekly pie recipe (this week was cherry, a flavour Kyungsoo would definitely try to make for their weekly dinner) he had spotted Yixing. He didn’t look like he was doing anything shady, but still. Maybe it was because he tended to wear darker clothes, or the fact that he could blend in and out of shadows like a master. But something about the man’s character was begging Chanyeol to just… _follow him_.

It sparked the curiosity in Chanyeol because what _did_ Yixing do in a day? It’s not like he worked, he didn’t seem to have any hobbies like fishing or gardening, and besides if (and only if) Chanyeol did find enough to scrounge up an article (which he probably wouldn’t because hey! He respects privacy...to an extent) it would be received very well. Because everybody in the village, along with Chanyeol, seemed to be perpetually interested in the new couple (who actually weren’t that new anymore) who decided to move from the bustling Capital to all the way here. Their tiny, boring, but loveable village. 

So was Chanyeol really going to waste this perfect opportunity to get the scoop? Of course not. Which is how he ends up once again, hiding behind a hedge of some sort as Yixing talked to an auntie. From what Chanyeol could gather, Yixing had been there for quite some time. If his clothes were lighter they would be clearly soiled from kneeling in the dirt. He had been fixing the Auntie’s gate, by the looks of it. 

Chanyeol watched, half guilty and half intrigued as Yixing calmly sipped the glass of water she offered him. He stood up easily, smoothly brushing off the dirt flecks on his pants. 

“I’m sorry,” Yixing murmurs, scratching the back of his neck. Damn, if he keeps his voice at that level it’s going to be a lot of straining on Chanyeol’s end. But it’ll be worth it, hopefully. “It’s not fixed.”

Chanyeol’s eyes bug out at the statement, because if he’s not wrong that’s a record breaking amount of words for Yixing to say. He didn’t even know Yixing could speak sentences if he’s being honest. He probably speaks more in private, or maybe he just doesn’t like talking to people who aren’t Junmyeon or triple Junmyeon’s age. 

“Hah?” The Auntie barks so loudly Chanyeol almost falls backwards from being startled. “What nonsense, it looks fine to me!” 

Chanyeol stares intently at Yixing, who’s eyes slide over to his handiwork. There’s this moment where Chanyeol sees his hand flex — he’s not going to punch the Auntie, is he? And if he does, will Chanyeol need to blow his cover? Because he’s seen firsthand what Yixing’s agility made him capable of, so there’s no way the Auntie will dodge. Which means it’ll be up to Chanyeol to— 

“I’ll come tomorrow,” Yixing says his hand in his pocket, fidgeting away on a gadget of some sort Chanyeol is unable to see. “Take another look.” 

This is probably the most Chanyeol has heard Yixing talk ever, and he’s not going to lie, Yixing has a very pleasant voice. Very very pleasant. Like, super duper nice to listen to, by the Goddess. He could record himself speaking and Chanyeol would save up to buy the audio because honestly — OK Chanyeol needs to stop losing focus. 

“Now listen to me Mister,” The Auntie begins as Chanyeol tunes back in, crossing her arms over her chest. She looks cross and intimidating in a way that if it were Chanyeol standing there instead of Yixing, he would shrink back from the inevitable spew of kind but reprimanding words the Auntie is about to unleash. “Tell me something, does it open now?” 

Yixing gives a single curt nod in response. 

“And does it work better than before?” 

Yixing reluctantly nods this time, almost like a child getting scolded over something they shouldn’t really be upset about in the first place. 

“Then it’s good.” She says, tone final. “You don’t need to nitpick! _My_ grandpa made this gate you know, and I assure you it’ll stay for plenty longer.” She boasts, looking proud. 

There’s some sort of silent battle going on between her and Yixing. If anything, Chanyeol guesses, the auntie will punch him. But Yixing sighs, accepting his mini defeat. 

“Now,” Her voice does a 180, back to the usual sweet old grandma voice that sounds like a cup of something warm on a cold rainy day. “Why don’t you come in for a cup of tea with me dear? You must be hungry, I heard you already visited three houses.” 

_What?_ Chanyeol must have missed that. Is this what he does? Visit the old aunties and uncles and listen to their old-age complaints about the ‘youngsters’ and declining health? It’s crazy. And...absurd that Yixing: a stealth master of some sort, would actually spend his time like that. Well not just Yixing, but it was infinitely easier to picture Junmyeon chatting away with the old villagers than it is to picture Yixing with his stoic straight face listening to them blabber on. 

“I’m sorry Ma’am,” Yixing says rather dutifully, slinking back to his normal stiff self that still wouldn’t dare to cross the Auntie. “Junmyeon’s expecting me.” 

“Ah you two!” The Auntie exclaims, but it’s all bark and no bite. She waggles her finger in Yixing’s face. “Always running about, so busy! No time to spend with us old folk, eh?” 

Chanyeol does the math at a surprisingly fast pace. ‘You two’ must mean that normally Junmyeon and Yixing visit the village together, going around and socializing with all the old folk. Maybe sitting down with a lucky pair now and then, always busy. Even if they technically had nothing to do, they were always busy. Strange. Or maybe they just prefer each other's company, they were quite private after all. 

“Next time,” Yixing promises with a faint smile. 

“Well at least let me give you something in thanks, how about it?” 

“Ah, that—” 

“Don’t even try it,” The Auntie huffs playfully. She’s already turning around and quickly skipping towards her house. “Give me two minutes!” 

So Yixing waits.

Which means Chanyeol waits, crouched even though his knees are honestly starting to burn. It doesn’t take long for the Auntie to come back, basket in tow. She carries it with two hands (probably struggling because of the amount of goodies she’s undoubtedly packed into it) and Yixing accepts it in one. 

“Thank you,” Yixing nods graciously, “I’ll return it soon.” 

“Don’t even think about it!” The Auntie swats him, nearly cackling. “Just come around with that handsome hubby of yours too sometime, alright!” 

_Hubby?!?!?!?!?!_ Chanyeol falls backwards with a quiet oof, his mind reeling away. He wants to let out a very big exclamation of _‘HUH????’_ and then promptly run over to Kyungsoo’s for another round of _‘WHAT!!!!’_ but he just slowly gets himself off the ground, dusting his pants off. 

“Will do,” Yixing gives her another small smile, and Chanyeol is still reeling at the fact that the Stealth Man himself is _married_ to Junmyeon nonetheless — who seems to be this bubbly friendly ray of not-too-harsh sunlight. But Chanyeol can’t spend too long thinking about it because Yixing is already moving to leave, and his cover will be blown. 

A few short scrambles later, Chanyeol is hidden away and Yixing is walking down the dirt row with the heavy basket swinging. From one house to the next he follows Yixing, watching as he waves to some villagers, and nods to others. He’s polite too, stopping to let children pass him, and careful to not step on any flowers that border the dirt road. After what feels like hours have passed, he walks over to a little field, speckled with a few trees that provide a nice amount of shade. Yixing plops down onto the grass, his back facing the tree Chanyeol is expertly hiding behind. 

He’s humming some sort of unrecognizable tune to himself as he opens the basket. Chanyeol can catch enough of a glimpse that his stomach nearly rumbles out loud then and there. Food, and by the looks of it the Auntie packed a lot. Yixing takes his time, seems to be setting things on the ground, shaking out little napkins and such, before murmuring a thanks Chanyeol doesn’t quite catch. 

It’s peaceful, so much so Chanyeol feels guilty that he’s secretly intruding on the serene moment playing out in front of him. Just when Chanyeol is starting to think not much will happen, Yixing speaks out. 

“Want some?” Yixing asks suddenly into the air in front of him. 

“Oh man, this guy’s got some personal demons from the war.” Chanyeol mumbles to himself, and maybe it’s a little heartbreaking that Yixing is asking the air if it wants some snacks. Like he’s imagining some lost friends of his are with him. 

“No,” Yixing says a bit louder, looking over his shoulder _right_ at where Chanyeol is standing so straight his back hurts. 

Chanyeol freezes. Deer in the lantern light freezes. His eyes wide and his heart pounding away treacherously in his chest. He’s not here, if he repeats it enough maybe he’ll sink into the ground or blend with the tree. He’s not here. He’s not here. Chanyeol is not behind a tree, waiting to be potentially killed. 

“Chanyeol,” Yixing repeats, sounding just as bored as always. “Do _you_ want some?”

Now normally Chanyeol would stutter out a no and bolt but he thinks the chances that Yixing will just nonchalantly catch him are high and there’s no way he’s going to mortify himself even _further._ He peeks out from behind the tree, shaking. 

Yixing is holding something out — a piece of bread — resting in the palm of his hand towards where Chanyeol is standing. It’s a peace offering, Chanyeol hopes as he awkwardly shuffles towards Yixing because there’s no escaping now. 

Yixing faces the front so his body isn’t twisted anymore, and he looks up when Chanyeol is in front of him. 

“Sit.” 

An order Chanyeol obeys at ground-breaking speed. 

Yixing hands him the piece of bread, and Chanyeol clutches it in his hand awkwardly. 

Silence. 

Chanyeol doesn’t know where to look. Yixing’s impassive face, the basket with food (and cutlery? Ok the Auntie was _clearly_ playing favourites), the sky, the trees, and back to Yixing’s face. 

“Is everything alright?” Yixing questions, raising an eyebrow as Chanyeol darts his eyes all over the place. And no it’s _not_ alright because Chanyeol is in the midst of a classic mental meltdown involving how his problem is that he can’t leave things alone. Which is why he’s in this situation in the first place. Sharing bread with Yixing, in a mini forest, wanting to die of shame. 

As a nervous self-defence mechanism, Chanyeol shoves a piece of bread into his mouth so he doesn’t have to answer. 

Yixing however, is patient. He doesn’t so much as blink, just stares continuously at Chanyeol like he’s a bug under a microscopic lens. Chanyeol swallows roughly, coughing because the crust feels stuck in his throat. 

Yixing calmly pours Chanyeol a glass of water, handing it to him with ease. Now Chanyeol _would_ thank him but he’s busy gulping down the water and gripping the glass like it’s a lifeline. It’s a wonder that it doesn’t shatter in his hand. 

“I’ve just, I was just,” Chanyeol sputters, undeniably turning beet red. 

“Following me,” Yixing finishes calmly for him, not looking disturbed in the slightest. 

“What—”

“You were following me.” 

“You knew?” Chanyeol attempts to ask, but his pitch is reaching the upper half of its range and it comes out squeaky, and nervous. Like a rat, Chanyeol supposes. He is in fact, a rat. 

“You weren’t subtle.” 

By the _Goddess_ if Chanyeol wasn’t red then he certainly is now. 

“Well, I—, um, sort of?” Chanyeol squeaks. 

Yixing’s eyebrows raise a fraction higher, “Sort of?” 

“Following...well what exactly constitutes as _following_ I could have been — I could have...” Chanyeol stops when he makes eye contact with Yixing. Not letting his words rush out so he can deflate alongside them. “Yeah. I was.” 

Yixing doesn’t say anything, but his silence itself is like a prompt for Chanyeol to keep going. That and the way his eyebrows haven’t gone down either. Like a silent, _‘and why?’_ that seems to be asked more so for Chanyeol’s sake than Yixing’s. 

“I’m, well, I’m sorry,” Chanyeol bites his lower lip, looking at the basket out of what he can only guess is shame. “Really sorry, guess my curiosity got the best of me...” 

“No worries,” Yixing speaks up, munching on a piece of bread. 

“I was following you,” Chanyeol repeats dumbly, as if he wants Yixing to do some reckless. Like punch him. “And you’re saying no worries?”

Yixing looks as nonchalant as ever, ignoring Chanyeol’s words in favour of pulling out what looks like little cubes of cheese. And now there’s more silence Chanyeol is mentally berating himself for not filling. 

“I don’t mind,” Yixing shrugs, rummaging through the basket. He pulls out a little jar of jam, looking triumphant. “Could’ve been worse.” 

“Could’ve been worse?” Chanyeol asks, staring (a little bit perplexed) as Yixing spreads some jam onto the slice of bread. 

Yixing shrugs in response, and it drives Chanyeol’s curiosity off the wall. 

“You have questions,” Yixing states plainly, holding the jam out to Chanyeol. It’s not like Chanyeol has a choice, it doesn’t matter if he’s too nervous to eat anyways. He takes the jam, and slowly spreads it onto another slice of bread. “I’ll answer.”

This cannot be happening. There’s no way the Goddess is turning Chanyeol’s fate for the better. Or maybe for once she’s on his side. 

“Wh— me? Question?” Chanyeol chuckles nervously, “No it’s ok, that’s fine, it’s nothing important,” He can feel his cheeks heating up the longer Yixing stares. “It’s really not—“ 

“You followed me,” Yixing pauses, tilting his head slowly. “For hours.” 

Chanyeol gulps, a mix of nervous and ashamed. 

“For a reason,” Yixing is _too_ damn hard to read. “I assume.” 

“I, I guess?”

“I can answer them,” Yixing offers in the same casual way he offered Chanyeol bread, like there’s a faint hint of a threat if he squints hard enough. 

“You would do that?” Chanyeol blinks. 

“If you want,” Yixing looks like he’s going to shrug again, but instead he just peers at Chanyeol with those blank eyes of his. Except this time, there seems to be a sparkle in them. Little, but impactful. 

“If I ask,” Chanyeol lowers his voice, glancing around cautiously. It’s just him, a sort-of-stranger, and the random ants that crawl up his too short pants. “Will you tell on me?” 

Yixing’s lips turn up into an amused expression, there’s the telltale peek of his dimple. It’s nice, he should smile more often, Chanyeol finds himself thinking (much to his embarrassment). 

“Depends,” Yixing says, sounding all too serious. 

“Oh,” Chanyeol says nervously. 

Another lull in the conversation. 

“Kidding.” 

“Right,” Chanyeol takes a bite of his bread. The jam is sweet but does absolutely nothing to smother his restlessness. There is one question that’s been badgering Chanyeol’s mind. It wasn’t something he had thought about it before but now that the idea is there— 

“Are you and Junmyeon married?” he blurts out, eyes wide. “Because back there the Auntie said, well, I mean yeah you were also there— I’m sorry,” Chanyeol is rambling. He’s rambling like the idiot he is. “Wow that was really uncalled for— geez, don’t answer I’m so—“ 

Chanyeol’s not sure what’s happening because one moment Yixing is blinking in the surprise, and the next moment he’s _laughing._ The silent kind, where your shoulders shake and you have to muffle the already quiet sounds behind your hand. He’s _laughing_ at _Chanyeol_ and Chanyeol doesn’t know what to do. He’s never seen any other expression apart from boredom on Yixing’s face. He didn’t even know he was capable of laughing, and that’s on the assumptions he shouldn’t have been making in the first place — 

“My heart,” Yixing says, chuckling away. He dabs under his eyes like he’s checking for tears. _“That’s_ your question?”

“It’s, I mean,” Chanyeol is turning red again. “I’m _curious_ , it just I didn’t get that impression but the Auntie said, well she said _hubby,”_ and now his ears are burning too, “So I just wanted to find out if it was true or not? I guess? That wasn’t really, it’s not my business —” 

“I suppose so.” Yixing cuts in, amusement clear as day in the way he speaks and looks at Chanyeol with a mix of unreadable expressions. 

“You suppose so?” Chanyeol presses, a little playful and a little scared. 

“Not legally,” Yixing continues good-naturedly, “But we could.” 

“Be married or _get_ married?” 

“Both.” 

“But —” 

“Uh-uh,” Yixing waggles his finger, and it’s almost funny because he’s back to his normal stoic expression. “I said both.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol blinks, “But the Auntie—“ 

“An assumption.” Yixing answers with his usual straight-forward attitude. 

“An understandable one, I guess?” Chanyeol says awkwardly. 

“I suppose so,” Yixing shrugs. 

“So you guys aren’t married?” Now why does Chanyeol feel _disappointed?_

“That’s a secret,” Yixing says, and he’s not grinning but the twinkle in his eyes does it for him. 

“Would you ever consider getting married here?” Chanyeol asks genuinely. The couple had already won over the hearts of the old folk, and they didn't have much celebrations. He’s sure a wedding would be welcomed with open arms. 

“Whatever Junmyeon wants,” Yixing says fondly. 

“Does he want to get married?” Chanyeol questions, he;s hoping Junmyeon does. That’d be cute! A village arranged wedding, not now but maybe in a few years, right? 

“Ah, Chanyeol,” Yixing says sagely. “You’re too young.” 

“That’s normally a good thing,” Chanyeol retorts, taking a bite of his forgotten bread. 

“You haven’t lived,” Yixing replies calmly, “Marriage isn’t everything.”

“Then what is?” 

Yixing purses his lips, looking out ahead, looking out beyond the field. There’s this look in his eyes, distant and clear. He’s thinking of things Chanyeol can’t picture, can’t read, even if he desperately wants to. “Time.” 

“Time? Like...spending time? That’s hard to do here,” Chanyeol mumbles. “Seriously, compared to the Capital this must be like...peanuts. A boring, basic life with almost nothing to offer. I mean don’t get me wrong I love it,” he adds hastily, “But time doesn’t seem to be a precious resource.”

“It’s different when...” Yixing pauses, deliberating. He’s fiddling with air, like he’s trying to contain it. “You’ve almost ran out of it.” 

“Oh,” Chanyeol says dumbly, quietly, the realization setting in his bones. He looks down at his fingers, unsure of what to say. 

“A precious resource,” Yixing murmurs, “Taken for granted.” 

“And you’re using it... here?” Chanyeol asks slowly, “You’ve decided to spend your time here?” 

“I’ve seen enough,” Yixing hums, “To cover lifetimes.”

“But… do you think you’ll ever regret it? Moving here?” 

“No,” Yixing replies softly and Chanyeol can see he’s struggling to find the right words to say. “This, what’s here, is needed.”

“For something more important than time?” Chanyeol bites his lip, thinking hard about what it could be. Relaxation? Retirement maybe? “What could possibly be more important than time?” 

Yixing looks over at Chanyeol, smiling softly. “Peace.” 

This realization isn't the kind which feels like a bucket of ice water is being dumped on Chanyeol's head. This one feels like when the sun rises, or the first bit of warmth of a cup of hot tea. It's the kind that plants seeds, which bloom across and over the years in life. The kind which Chanyeol thinks about for weeks, even months later. When he's by himself, and when he's with the people he loves, the realization is there around his shoulders, reminding him about what was lost in exchange for what's important. 

"Peace," Chanyeol repeats quietly. 

Maybe it's time to quit the paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ik there r a TONNN of typos but listen...I got new glasses and eyes decided they're not going to adjust but I wanted to update this!!!! so ill edit it when my eyes decide to work again lolol


	7. intermission: Chanyeol's Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a short ch for Chanyeol

“Come on,” Kyungsoo urges them, trying to balance the cake in his hands. There’s a noise from inside the building they’re skirting around, and Kyungsoo halts to a stop. 

Baekhyun bumps into Jongdae who nearly crashes into Kyungsoo. 

“Stop _pushing me!”_ Kyungsoo whisper-yells to the culprits behind him. “Do you want me to drop the cake?” 

“Sorry, ah—“ Jongdae seems to have stumbled over a rock, nearly shoving into Kyungsoo yet again. Baekhyun grabs him by the collar of his shirt and yanks him back. 

“Where are your glasses?” He hisses under his breath, frowning as he looks Jongdae up and down. They’re nowhere in sight. 

“I think I lost them,” Jongdae mumbles, slapping the hand still on his collar lightly. 

_“Again?”_ Both Kyungsoo and Baekhyun ask, eyes wide and exasperated. 

“By the Goddess,” Kyungsoo huffs, “Where did you lose them now?” 

In a fashion similar to a stealth mission, the three of them slowly sneak along the edges of Chanyeol’s house. Kyungsoo’s got the cake ( _the_ cake, three whole layers with a hefty amount of delicious icing and jam smothered in between). Baekhyun’s got the gifts (a leather bound notebook, a small engraved pocket knife, and some clothes that hopefully fit him). And Jongdae’s job is to just get there alive. 

Their goal is to sneak into Chanyeol’s house (Baekhyun had a key) and surprise him. 

“If I knew I would _have them.”_

“Be honest, yeah?” Baekhyun says, unimpressed. “Are you losing them on purpose?” 

“Wha— no? Of course not!” Jongdae sputters, and he’s not doing a great job to convince them. He’s checking off every box in terms of lying. Shifty eyes, excuses, and his personal one which is playing with his hair. “Why would I do that?” 

“You do think you look better without them…” Kyungsoo muses. 

“I didn’t know you guys joined Chanyeol and his theories!” Jongdae says mockingly. 

“Hey,” Baekhyun starts, a little defensive. “Our theories are actually plausible. His are always some insane blabbers of knights and war and the Goddess knows what else.” 

“Hey, let's not insult the man on his birthday, alright?” Kyungsoo chides them gently. 

“Kyungsoo?” Jongdae feigns surprise, dramatically placing a hand on his chest and widening his eyes. “Denying the opportunity to insult Chanyeol?” 

“It’s his _birthday,”_ Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, “It’s the least we can do.”

“We baked a _cake,”_ Jongdae stresses, playfully nudging Baekhyun. 

“We brought _gifts,”_ Baekhyun contributes, nodding slowly. 

_“I_ baked the cake,” Kyungsoo points out. _“I_ chose the gifts. So let’s just agree that I win this.” 

“Never,” Jongdae retorts immediately. “I had some great gift ideas!” 

“A doohickey from the war doesn’t count,” Baekhyun snorts. “Who _knows_ what that could do.” 

“That’s the point!” Jongdae exclaims in protest, quiet voice forgotten. “He would love that, it was a fantastic gift.” 

“And if it blew up his house?” Baekhyun asks, “What then?” 

“He could just live with us,” Kyungsoo supplies, before he pauses. Tilting his head like he didn’t hear himself correctly, Kyungsoo mumbles out a little dumbfounded, “I can’t believe I just said that.” 

“He could just, he could,” Baekhyun looks at Kyungsoo with wide, unbelieving eyes. “Did you really just say that? _I_ can’t believe it.” 

“Me neither,” Jongdae marvels.

“Did you hit your head?” Baekhyun asks seriously. “Do you need help?” 

“We can take you to the apothecary,” Jongdae offers.

“That’s enough you two,” Kyungsoo sighs. They’ve finally reached the front door, a tall wooden thing with a shiny doorknob. “Baekhyun, you have the key—“ 

“What are you guys doing?” A voice from above them asks. 

For a moment Baekhyun thinks to himself, rather dumbly, that it’s a God. Or some sort of spiritual entity but that’s not right because they believe in a Goddess, and when he cranes his neck to look upwards he sees half of Chanyeol’s lanky body sticking out the front window. He’s looking down on them, the sun highlighting his hair, and there’s this big sparkly obnoxious grin on his face. He knows _exactly_ why they’re there. 

“Ah,” Jongdae says in a tone that implies he’s thinking. For once. Genius or not he lacked as much common sense as them all. “He knows.” 

“Hello Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo greets politely, like he’s not holding his surprise birthday cake tightly in his hands. He turns to Jongdae with the smile still plastered on his face even though he's clearly panicking, “You said he was napping!” he whispers to Jongdae. 

“Well I didn’t know he woke up—" 

“I was napping,” Chanyeol calls out unhelpfully. “You guys are really loud, you know that?” 

“How much did you hear?” Jongdae asks, grinning up at Chanyeol. 

“Something about you losing your glasses. _Again._ Come on Jongdae you have to start carrying backups.” 

“Right!” Baekhyun exclaims, “Can you please?” 

“We can each have one,” Kyungsoo supplies. 

“No! No, _no._ I’m quite alright. Thank you.” 

“We’re going to do that anyway,” Chanyeol shrugs.

“Keep this up and we won’t give you your cake,” Jongdae threatens, but there’s not a single serious note in his voice. 

“Is that my cake?” Chanyeol yells, looking down at Kyungsoo. 

“No,” Baekhyun yells playfully, “We just decided to bring a cake for no reason.” 

“To your place,” Jongdae continues, shaking his head with a grin on his face. 

“On your birthday,” Kyungsoo finishes with an even bigger smile. 

"Keep it away from him Kyungsoo," Chanyeol yells playfully. "I don't want the cake stealer snatching my cake!" 

"That was _once!"_ Jongdae screeches. "And I didn't steal your cake I _dropped_ it!" 

"Same thing," Baekhyun muses, "Either way no cake was given." 

"Or received!" Chanyeol adds. 

"Chanyeol," Jongdae says, eyes wide like he's trying to threaten him. "You get down here right now—" 

"I'm coming I'm coming —"

"So I can give you your cake." Kyungsoo says, "No theft here." 

"I don't know..." Baekhyun eyes Jongdae carefully. "Jongdae looks awfully mad..." 

"Oh you two," Jongdae huffs, "Whatever." 

They can hear Chanyeol thundering down the stairs, two at a time because he's a mix of plain tall and impatient. 

"One of these days he's going to fall," Kyungsoo mutters, shaking his head. 

"And today is not that day," Chanyeol announces, swinging the door open with gusto. 

"Happy birthday Chanyeol," Baekhyun wishes him with a warm smile. 

"Let us in before _Kyungsoo_ drops your cake." Jondgae jokes, a big grin on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday to the the wonderful rapper singer gifted musician himself!!


	8. Silence & Supressing

Jongdae is running. 

Yes, he’s _running._ Something he hates doing with a passion. Something he would usually never do unless he was absolutely forced to, and yet here he is. Running out of free will. If Chanyeol saw him he’d be rolling on the floor with laughter, but luckily Chanyeol is nowhere to be seen in the midst of the blurry trees, dirt, and grass. 

It takes him a second (or a few minutes, where he’s leaning against a tree with his chest heaving up and down as he inhales as much air as humanly possible) to figure out why he’s running. It had started off as a harmless conversation with a small child of a family friend. He’s even pretty sure the little girl was a distant relative of Baekhyun’s somehow. 

And now Jongdae is running. Not _from_ the girl, but _for_ the girl. Because he’s on a search, a quest really, as she had said. As if the fancier word would make him feel any better, but at least it made her (with her two little braids and chubby cute cheeks) feel better. She had asked him for something and Jongdae would deliver. It’s just a matter of figuring out where certain people are. 

People who could help him out. 

More specifically, the new people. The very attractive new people Jongdae hadn’t been avoiding, just coincidentally unable to see due to his busy schedule that consisted of: researching, crying, researching, crying, and a smidge of trying (and failing) to cook while proceeding to bombard Kyungsoo with cooking inquiries. 

And if Jongdae remembered correctly, they lived just up the hill by themselves. What Jongdae doesn’t remember is the right way to the hill. Because apparently their house is in the opposite direction, a revelation brought to him during his little break.

_Great._

He makes his way towards his new destination, and before he knows it he’s there. He had been hoping to see Junmyeon (he was the...friendly one, right? Sort of?) But he’s met with Yixing instead. It doesn’t matter enough to hinder him. 

Yixing’s head is bowed down to something, if Jongdae can see correctly— and yes, he’s wearing his glasses— Yixing is peeling an apple. Good. That wasn’t serious business at all. Nothing Jongdae would feel guilty about interrupting. 

Without thinking (which is rare for Jongdae), he sprints across the little stretch of long field grass until he reaches Yixing, and grabs his wrist. Not just grabs it, full on _seizes_ it. His fingers curling tightly around Yixing’s wrist. Jongdae would think the sudden movement would nearly make Yixing drop the apple in the same hand, but Yixing’s grip is solid. For a split second a thought runs through Jongdae’s mind, fractured and busy: that maybe Yixing had _let_ him grab his wrist. 

Yixing blinks, looking down at the hand gripping his wrist and back up to Jongdae’s winded-out, pale, face. The question he wants to ask is written out all over his face, but he doesn’t actually voice it. He just continues to stare at Jongdae’s face, and then bring his gaze back to his hand. 

As if he’s...calculating? 

Now that’d be weird, is what Jongdae decides. 

What Jongdae means to say is a very nice, very polite, _‘could you please help me?’_ But that’s not what Jongdae says. And besides, all logic and politeness was thrown out the window the moment Jongdae had sprinted towards him like a maniac, wheezing his way through the grass. Instead Jongdae looks up through his messy bangs. His chest heaving from the sudden sprint, and wheezes out a very strained: 

_“Do you have a knife?”_

Yixing looks down to the apple he’s been peeling, then to the hand gripping his wrist, and then back to Jongdae’s face. Without saying a word he holds up his free hand, brandishing the little knife he had been using to peel the apple. 

Oh. 

“Oh,” Jongdae says dumbly, releasing his grip on Yixing’s hand. 

Yixing looks a little perplexed if anything, but he’s remained surprisingly calm. 

Jongdae clears his throat after a few more awkward seconds, the shame starting to hover over him like a cloud. He pushes it aside. “Can I please borrow it?” he can’t help the way he impatiently taps his foot against the ground. 

There’s another moment of silence, in this one Yixing sets his half peeled apple down on the tree stump near him. “Ok,” he shrugs, but he’s not giving it to Jongdae. 

Well, there’s no time for this. He’ll just have to come with Jongdae. 

“Follow me,” Jongdae says with a nod, ever so serious even though he feels like he shouldn’t be. 

Yixing pulls out some sort of cloth and wraps it around his small knife before pocketing it carefully. With that, they set down the stone steps and onto the village path. Jongdae walks as fast as he can (he is _not_ running in front of Yixing), and Yixing keeps up with his pace easily. 

“You probably have questions,” Jongdae says, a little out of breath. 

Either Yixing doesn’t want to talk to him, or he doesn’t have anything to say because he just graces Jongdae with a nod. 

“There’s this little girl in the village, she asked me for a knife.” Jongdae says plainly. It’s more complicated than that, but Jongdae doesn’t feel like explaining. Doesn’t want to drag himself down the hole where he’ll have to think about his cousin, and the war, and the grief he’s been burying inside him. 

_’I’ll bring you back the coolest weapon I can get my hands on.’_

Well it wasn’t cool, but it’d do well enough to satisfy a child’s curiosity, right?

Yixing looks at Jongdae, looking a little alarmed. 

By the Goddess Jongdae is a fool. Of _course_ Yixing looks alarmed, that was probably the worst way for Jongdae to word it. “Not for— not for anything _bad,_ I swear on the Goddess, It’s not. Ah, that wasn’t the right thing to say at all—” and now he’s nervous. And it’s showing. Jongdae is not in the right mindset. 

“I get it,” Yixing says. His voice is quiet, and lulled. It really does sound like he gets it, even when he doesn’t know anything. So Jongdae comes to the sound conclusion that he should just follow everyone’s advice and shut up. 

_He should speak more,_ Jongdae thinks to himself absentmindedly. With a voice like that Jongdae wouldn’t stop talking. 

Jongdae spots the little smile on Yixing’s face and stomps the thought down immediately. He didn’t say that out loud, right? By the Goddess, did he? Jongdae stares at Yixing, trying to prompt the other to look at him and let him know, but Yixing doesn’t acknowledge it. He still keeps his eyes cooly focused ahead. 

Up ahead a little girl is standing expectantly. 

“There she is!” Jongdae exclaims in a mixture of relief that he found her, the knife, and an excuse to just not think. He jogs over to her, waving. 

Jongdae does a little bow, ignoring how weird this all must be to Yixing. 

She beams up at him, as cute as ever when Jongdae crouches down to be at her eye level. 

“Hello! She says, with a big grin on her face. “How’s your mission going sir!” 

“Yes ma’am!” Jongdae salutes her with a little wave, sure it’s childish, but it’s the least Jongdae can do. She’s a bit lonely, her Mother had told Jongdae. And the realization had hit him like a brick. He’d been so caught up in himself and his research (stored safely away in the Clearing, where no one would dare to go) that he’d really forgotten how others would be affected by the way. 

It was selfish of him, he thought. So selfish he had immediately resolved to play with the little girl. Give her a little bit of joy and fun to hold on to before the nighttime crept in with it’s grasping shadows and daunting claws and more and worse. Jongdae is an expert at keeping it together, mainly because he's always so close to just bursting out the seams. 

“The item has been retrieved,” Jongdae whispers, dropping his tone down to sound elusive and secretive. 

Before he can hold out his palm towards Yixing, Yixing’s hand extends towards the little girl. Resting on it is his little knife, still carefully wrapped up in the cloth. In the back of his mind, Jongdae notes that Yixing catches on quickly. Perceptive, was it? It was intriguing. 

The girl eyes Yixing with an amusingly grown air around her. She straightens her back and nods very seriously to him, and it looks like Yixing has been recruited onto her little team in this little game. 

“Ma’am,” Yixing murmurs politely, looking right at her. 

She giggles adorably, gingerly lifting up the corners of the cloth so she can admire the little knife. It’s no bigger than Yixing’s palm, with a surprisingly sharp point and a vines of gold intertwining on the handle. It’s fancy, the kind of fancy that didn’t belong in their village. 

“It’s very pretty,” She says in a serious voice, but her eyes are glimmering with wonder and makes Jongdae feel the slightest bit better. “Good work done, sirs.” 

“Thank you Ma’am,” Jongdae responds dutifully, “What’s next on the list?” 

“Hm,” She taps her lip thoughtfully, looking up with scrunched eyebrows. 

Now is when Yixing’s gaze slides over to Jongdae, with one eyebrow raised in a questioning manner. 

Jongdae keeps his knees pressed in the dirt and offers a little grimace of apology. 

“A fire sword!” 

Jongdae blanches, but he does a good job of keeping it under wraps. He hates swords. Hates anything that reminds him of anything really. “As you wish,” he tries not to stammer out, standing up shakily. Jondgae hates weapons. Hates them for reasons he can’t fathom, which is why as _interesting_ as they were, he never studied them. 

_A fire sword,_ Jongdae thinks to himself. Forged in lava, and had designs that could range from fancy enough to be decorative, to simple but effective. Did his cousin die to one? He would never know.

“Well, we’ll get started on that,” Jongdae smiles. 

“I expect you back here in ten minutes!” She exclaims happily, already shuffling backwards so she can go back to playing with her friends. 

“A fire sword,” Jongdae mutters to himself the moment she’s gone. A sword, of course she’d jump from knife to sword. Even if he didn’t want to, he’d fulfill her request anyways. 

“Interesting,” is all Yixing says. 

“I bet you know more about all this than I do,” Jongdae says, shaking his head with a huff. “But at least I know where to find one. Wanna come with?” 

Yixing shrugs, and Jongdae supposes that’s the closest he’ll get to a yes. 

“Well away we go then.” 

Chanyeol’s house is where Jongdae is headed. Now Chanyeol, enthusiastic journalist and war enthusiast would definitely have one around. That was like his hobby, his guilty pleasure, almost. Saving up money for the blacksmith, or for the rare occasion where the village weapons dealer would come with some new fancy contraption or the other. 

Jongdae, put simply, could never. 

“We’re going to Chanyeol’s,” Jongdae says in an attempt to fill the silence. “He’s something of a sword lover, I know he managed to get his hands on a pretty beaten up one two years ago. That’s like, his passion, you know? He takes all these useless weapons, things people discard, and transforms them. It’s pretty cool, or would be if it wasn’t—” Jongdae cuts himself off abruptly. Why does he want to fill the silence? 

Yixing just keeps walking ahead, and Jongdae presses his lips together. 

_It would be pretty cool if it wasn’t weapons,_ is what Jongdae wants to say. It’d be pretty cool if they weren’t looking for weapons for a girl who lost her Dad to the war. It’d be pretty cool if there was some sort of magic out there that could bring them back. 

_Them._

Jongdae grimaces, a smile flashing through his memories. 

_Them._

A ruffle to his head, and a hearty laugh. His cousin staring down at Jongdae, a big grin on his face. 

_‘When I come back, yeah?’_ His cousin had said, to which Jongdae had hummed in response. Too busy trying to take apart this spherical little ball — an older invention from the Capital Jongdae credits getting to the Goddess. _‘I’ll bring you back the coolest weapon I can get my hands on.’_

He hadn’t, but that’s not what Jongdae is bitter about. 

“If it wasn’t?” 

Jongdae is shaken out of his thoughts but Yixing’s voice, quiet and creeping up on him as always. 

“If it wasn’t…” Jongdae swallows, teetering on the edge of nervousness. “Chanyeol.” 

“Ah,” Yixing nods in understanding, even though the thought is barely deciperable to Jongdae, and he’s the one who said it. 

“We’re here,” Jongdae informs him, having walked all the way by muscle memory. He knocks on the door three times, rocking back and forth on his feet. 

There’s a yell of _‘I’m coming!’_ And the sound of feet thundering towards the door. Chanyeol open’s the house. Of course, in a typical Chanyeol-Like-Manner his shirt is ripped and there’s dirt (Grease? Graphite? Jongdae doesn’t want to know) Smudged over his nose-bridge. 

“Jongdae!” Chanyeol exclaims happily, pulling Jongdae into a hug he can’t refuse. “Oh,” Chanyeol says after a moment, noticing Yixing. Chanyeol sounds embarrassed, Jongdae figures, but there's a look on his friend's face (respect, _reverence?)_ that Jongdae can’t place. “Nice to see you, Yixing.” 

Yixing nods in greeting. 

“Enough of that,” Jongdae pulls himself out of Chanyeol’s hug. “I’m on a mission.” 

“Ooh, fancy,” Chanyeol’s eyes light up. “What kind?” 

“The kind you can help with,” Jongdae responds, snapping finger guns towards the taller. “I need to borrow that fire sword of yours.” 

Chanyeol looks confused, his eyebrows scrunching slowly, and his head tilting to the side. “Fire sword?” 

“Blade of Fire,” Yixing speaks up, and for the millionth time Jongdae marvels and how commandeering such a quiet voice can be. 

“Ah!” Recognition scrawls itself on Chanyeol’s face, “Blade of fire. Ok. I’ve got one in my room, let me get it!” 

_Blade of fire,_ not fire sword, Jongdae notes. 

The wait isn’t as awkward as Jongdae thinks it’ll be. It’s just him staring at the sky, and Yixing staring at the ground, until Chanyeol emerges with the wanted sword in hand. 

“One Fireblade coming right up!” 

“Isn’t it Blade of Fire?” Jongdae questions, confused. 

“Both names work,” Yixing and Chanyeol say at the same time, Yixing shrugging and Chanyeol flushing with something that looked suspiciously like admiration. 

“Right,” Jongdae says slowly, “Well, we’ll return it tonight.” 

“Fine by me, here you go!” He hands it to Yixing, smiling from ear to ear. “Let me know if you need anything else.” 

“Sure thing Chanyeol,” Jongdae smiles as the door swings shut. Whatever Chanyeol’s busy with must be his top property because he asked a record breaking amount of zero questions.

Jongdae turns to Yixing, and then looks down at the blade. And now that he’s actually looking at it he can’t help but stare at it, as if it’s offended him somehow. 

“What is that?” Jongdae whispers rather dumbly to Yixing, staring at the worn down sword in confusion. He doesn’t want Chanyeol to hear him, and risk Chanyeol bursting out the door with sword trivia spilling out of his mouth faster than Jongdae’s brain can process. Even if they’ve already started walking away from Chanyeol’s house. 

It’s plain, a dark grey colour that had long since faded away. Even the handle looked well used, worn down, the gold colour fading in the very specific parts Yixing’s hands melt into it. There’s this sort of ease in which Yixing handles the sword. He doesn’t treat it like it’s a dangerous weapon, he treats it like it’s a part of himself. An extension of himself that’s been retired, but not entirely forgotten. 

“Blade of fire,” Yixing whispers back, as if it was obvious. 

“Where’s the… where’s the _fire?”_ Jongdae whispers, a touch satirical, and more than a touch bewildered. 

Yixing’s lips quirk up into something amused. “Do you have any matches?” 

(A quick detour to Jongdae’s house, and one box of matches clutched tightly in his hands, and Jongdae and Yixing finally make it back to the part of the town where the child is waiting, still whispering).

“What are you two whispering about!” She excitedly hops into the conversation, looking at Jongdae with sparkling, hopeful eyes. 

Yixing looks at Jongdae, and then looks down at the little girl. If it were any other situation, Jongdae would laugh about how quickly Yixing’s expression morphs into seriousness the moment she speaks. 

“Your request,” Yixing answers her, dutifully. “Ma’am.” 

She stares at it suspiciously, pursing her lips (it’s more of a put really, she’s only five but bless her, her expression being just as serious as Yixing’s) as she contemplates the appearance of the sword. “But where’s the fire?” She asks, disbelieving. 

At that, Jongdae holds back a hysterical snort, and Yixing lets out a little weary sounding sigh. 

“Excuse me,” Yixing murmurs, extending the sword towards Jongdae. 

Jongdae stares down at the sword, and then back up at Yixing. 

Yixin’s expression stays just as curiously blank as normal, and Jongdae has half the mind to yell in an attempt to startle him into reacting. 

Jongdae glances back at the sword, and then up to Yixing again. Does Yixing want him to _hold_ the sword? It was a simple (and silent) enough request, but Jondgae just continues to stare at him like a fool. He could just reach over and grab the hilt, but he can’t help but freeze. As if something cold is slowly climbing up his legs, and forcing him to just stare. Stare. Stare. Stare.

_’I’ll bring y—_

He can’t do it. Jondgae realizes in the split seconds that pass, even if they flow slowly like honey between them. He can’t reach over and take the sword with nonchalance because it’ll feel wrong. Like a crime. And before Jongdae knows it he’s thinking too much, and he’s thinking about his cousin. Why would it feel like a crime? Because a lost loved one had died, and Jongdae didn’t know how. What if a sword that slayed him? The same kind that Yixing was holding, or did he have a sword on him? A worn down sword, a lucky sword whose luck ran out, a sword a friend gave him, or a regular sword just given to him. 

_’I’ll bring you back the coo—’_

It’s just a sword, but it has Jongdae clamming up and forcing his words to come out.

“Just, put it on the ground,” Jondgae swallows hard, hoping he won’t choke on his words, or the emotions they’re blocking from spilling out messily. 

_’I’ll bring you back the coolest weap—’_

Now, in a moment that sort of shocks Jongdae, confusion flickers in Yixing’s eyes. Not concern, not the coddling that’s been hammering Jongdae down, _confusion._ But it’s gone quicker than it came, and Jongdae is left staring into Yixing’s dark eyes, feeling frozen. 

“The matches,” is all Yixing says. 

“Oh, oh, right,” Jongdae is fumbling for words, he’s fumbling for the matches, his palms are beginning to sweat and the more he looks at the sword the more he wants to do something. Like throw up. Of course Yixing wanted Jongdae to hold the matches and not the sword.He pulls a match out, and hands it to Yixing, unsure of what to do. 

Jongdae keeps the box outstretched towards Yixing, and watches with fascination as Yixing strikes it against the side of the box. In a movement that feels like a trick of light, Yixing holds the match to the sword, and shakes the match out. 

And yet, that’s not what Jongdae’s eyes are drawn to. His eyes are drawn to the sword, and how the small flame from the match ripples _through_ the sword. And suddenly, the blade which seemed dull, and bland, and grey, is _alive._ Colourful and _breathing,_ tall orange flames flickering from the sides, and the fire dancing. 

A weapon. Alive? 

Jongdae wouldn’t have believed it unless he saw it. 

There’s a gasp, and Jongdae turns his head to see her eyes wide, and the reflection of the fire dancing in them. There’s this sort of childish fascination scrawled all over her face, shown by the way her cheeks flush in excitement, and how the words have been taken right from her mouth. There’s no childish babble, and their game hovers in between them— forgotten. 

It’s just Jongdae, this sweet little girl, and Yixing. 

Yixing, who suddenly looks...different, And now Jongdae isn’t staring at the sword, he’s staring at Yixing, A man who was previously so devoid of emotion, seems to have been poured into a different mold right in front of Jongdae’s eyes. His stance is firm, and his expression not empty, but calm. The light from the fire brightens his face, and there’s something about how he looks at the sword too, an entanglement of comfort, familiarity, and some sort of deep, swept over sadness. 

A sadness Jongdae only recognizes because it often frequents him. He stares at the sword, and his thoughts keep piling up. His cousin with a sword, his cousin against a sword like this, would he have even stood a chance? Against a flaming blade that could scorch him instantly? He would’ve been dead before—

“Can I touch it?” She marvels, her hand starting to extend. 

“No!” Jondgae says, harsher than he means it to be. But it’s ok, because the alarm on her face is fixable. Jongdae crouches down, and carefully holds her hand in his. “It’s dangerous, he can hold it because he’s a…” he looks at Yixing, curious. Maybe Jongdae is leaning towards the bad side because even now he’s trying to glean some information, or maybe he’s just human. Curious. 

“I’ve practised,” Yixing says firmly, and it’s not the answer Jongdae wants or is expecting but it’ll have to do. 

“Mister,” She pauses, ‘sir’ forgotten. “If I practice, can I use it too?” 

Yixing nods slowly, carefully. 

“Lots, and _lots_ of practice thought. Alright?” Jongdae warns, trying not to sound too stern. 

“Yes sir,” and now she’s saluting him. 

“Good,” Jondgae nods, falling right back into character. “Anything else for today ma’am?” 

“Nope,” She pops the ‘p’. “You’re dismissed!” And without a further thought (really, Jongdae thinks rather warmly, he hopes she can cling to her wonder) she scurries away. Somehow the more she runs, the bigger the gap in Jongdae’s heart feels. As if for a brief amount of time, she helped him forget about the gaping hole. 

Jongdae stands up with a sigh, dusting his pants off. “Well,” he pauses, eyeing how Yixing just stands there, as if he’s not holding the closest equivalent to pure fire in his hands. “We better put that out.” He’s not looking at Yixing, in fact, it feels like he’s going to cry. 

“Right,” Yixing says, swinging it in a motion so firm the flames die out in an instance.

“That must...” Jondgae is trying to keep himself above the waters he’s so used to sinking into. And how sudden too. He can’t help the waves that wash over him, sudden, and arrupt, and haunting, and hurtful. “Have taken practice.” 

_‘I’ll bring y—’_

“The preference is water,” Yixing passes the sword from one hand to the next, back and forth as if the handle is too hot. Jongdae wants to ask, but if Yixing’s been holding it this whole time there’s no way the handle is hot. Right?

“Right.” 

More silence, and now Jongdae really wants to go home.

“Why did you help her?” YIxing asks slowly, eyeing Jongdae with a careful gaze. 

Jongdae wants to start speaking, but his thoughts are churning so much his words won’t come out right, and he keeps thinking about the weapons, and the war, and his cousin. “Because she, her _Dad,”_ Jongdae tries, but he can’t. He clears his throat, “Never mind that.”

Yixing does as asked, no questions, and no questioning eyes. Jongdae likes that about Yixing. No questions like everyone in the village, everyone who was concerned about Jongdae. No concerned eyes like Kyungsoo, or anxiously sharp words like Baekhyun. Just silence, and stone, and silence, and solitude. 

_‘ou back the cool—’_

Enough! Jongdae wants to scream to his brain. 

“Well,” Jongdae stares at the sword, and then back to the ground. He hates the sight of it, really. It’s a wonder he managed to keep it together enough to at least show it to the child. “Thank you for your help, truly. I thought you, or Junmyeon, would have more expertise on… swords and such. Chanyeol is perpetually busy and I figured, well, I didn’t figure actually.” Jongdae chuckles, but it’s humourless. “I didn’t so much as think, I just ran the moment she told me about her request because, well,” Jongdae can’t bring himself to say it. He can’t drag his eyes away from the sword. 

Sword. His cousin defenseless, and then death. It’s a cycle of thoughts Jongdae is trying to shake himself out of. 

Yixing looks like he wants to say something, but refrains from doing it. 

The passing movement stills, and it’s just Jongdae, Yixing, and the sword. 

Yixing, and how even though he fought in the war he holds the sword with ease. Jongdae, who didn’t even come close to it, can’t even look at it for too long. His heart hurts, his head hurts, and the sudden burst of joy is gone, leaving him with that musty empty feeling again.

“You wouldn't disappoint.” Yixing says softly, and there’s something so very soothing about his words, but Jongdae pays them no mind. 

“I just wanted,” Jongdae inhales slowly. “To show her the coolest weapon I could get my hands on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im leaving a bit longer of a note this time so pls bear with me!!
> 
> im so sleepy but I wanted to post this bc I will be YEETING to study for finals hhh, to everyone w winter exams gl!! the break is around the corner. 
> 
> Also, this chapter is a lot of Jongdae-thought-vomit, and if his idk thinking process didnt make sense ill fix that,,, eventually,,,one day,, in the future,,, im not quite satisfied with this chapter but I am at the same time?? if I was a smart writer I would just idk not post it but this fic is vv much more casual!!! so its ok pls accept this chapter along w my love and heart and hh sorry that it's on the lowkey heavier side?? im sampling angst which is smth I normally can't handle heidoehniode OK this is kinda long so bye!!! love u!!!! if u made it this far take extra love and CARE YALL there is a whole pandemic so pls stay safe!!!


	9. Thanking & Tribulations

It starts at the festival. The Goddess Festival. The one festival where everyone, _everyone,_ came out to celebrate the goodness of their one and only beloved Goddess. Baekhyun stresses on _everyone_ because, for whatever reason, Junmyeon doesn’t seem to want to be included in that. Sure the festival was fun, but the main purpose was to celebrate the Goddess. And if Junmyeon’s enthusiasm were to indicate anything at all, he’s not really enjoying the celebration. 

Originally Junmyeon wasn’t going to come. He had told Kyungsoo that during some gardening sessions of theirs. Kyungsoo was surprised— he wouldn’t miss anything Goddess related for the world— but didn’t push. Because that’s who Kyungsoo is. However, that’s not who Chanyeol is, so the taller had used his version of puppy eyes until Junmyeon reluctantly agreed. The news had dwindled down the grapevine until Kyungsoo himself asked Baekhyun to at least act as a guide for them. 

Of course, Baekhyun was slightly reluctant. Don’t get him wrong, he likes Junmyeon quite a bit but pushing people— _meddling_ more accurately— was more so Chanyeol’s thing than his. But Kyungsoo had asked nicely and even Jongdae encouraged it so Baekhyun abided. 

Originally Junmyeon had arrived with Yixing and they had met up with the four of them. Then came the crowd, people needing help carrying stuff, Yixing volunteering, the separation, and now it’s Baekhyun leading Junmyeon around while the latter looked something close to glum. Even if Junmyeon was good at stitching his emotions back in and putting on a brave, smooth, face, Baekhyun can tell. His eyes contained this depth, this _sadness_ and Baekhyun really hopes he isn’t reading it right at all. 

“Not one for festivals?” Baekhyun tries, feeling so awkward.

He can’t place it, can’t explain it, but Junmyeon’s face has been blank. He doesn’t look impressed, which Baekhyun figures is appropriate because he’s from the Capital. (Nothing they did at their village could ever compare). But Junmyeon didn’t seem to be that person. Judgemental to their village ways, or condescending towards their ragtag festival. 

As far as Baekhyun knew Junmyeon _wasn’t_ that person.Nothing about Junmyeon screamed condescending, or even judgemental in the slightest. If anything, it seemed like he was forcing himself to be unimpressed. Tensed. 

And as a result, Baekhyun is tense. Trying to fill the gaps of their conversation with awkward jokes and whatever random gossip comes to mind. 

“I didn’t know such a thing existed out here,” Junmyeon murmurs, his eyes taking in the sights of the bustling village. The night has just begun to set in, the noise levels climbing from kids excited to stay up past their bedtime, and the game booths that encircled them.

“It’s tradition,” Baekhyun shrugs, “It’s the one thing we actually do ‘round here for fun.” 

“Sunday market isn’t fun?” It’s supposed to be a joke but it comes out as flat. Junmyeon eyes the lanterns hanging above them carefully, and a part of Baekhyun feels oddly ashamed at how they’re all different sizes and colours. A mismatched array that seems less charming and more clumsy now. 

“It’s a different kind of fun,” Baekhyun shoots Junmyeon a smile. “You know, a more… competitive fun. This is relaxing fun. _Freedom_ fun.” 

Baekhyun’s not sure if he’s seeing things, but Junmyeon almost seems to wince at the word freedom. Carefully concealing it by squeezing his palms together, as if he’s forcing all the energy from his actions right down to his palms. 

Junmyeon, Baekhyun realizes, seems very guarded right now. Like he’s got his emotions on lock and his mind made up. And Baekhyun, although a person reader, is not a mind reader. 

“It’s plenty fun,” Baekhyun chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. At least Junmyeon is trying too, like he’s acknowledging something isn’t right. “But not the same.” 

“I suppose so.” 

Another silence blankets them, thick and nearly suffocating. 

“So what do we do now?” Junmyeon asks, stopping in his tracks suddenly. He looks right at Baekhyun, and for whatever reason Baekhyun is scared he’s going to leave. It looks like Junmyeon Is about to, leaning on his tips feet like a bird about to take off. 

They had walked around, small talk failing drastically until Junmyeon had posed the question. Baekhyun felt something akin to dread grab him by the shoulders and shake him. His ego is basically screaming at him to fix the situation. Now. If not his ego, then Kyungsoo’s silent glare from wherever he is, ensuring that Baekhyun knew how to make people comfortable. 

He’s failing. He’s failing and he doesn’t even know why. Because Junmyeon with all his soft allure, and gentle kindness still has walls built up so high and far Baekhyun’s sure he hasn’t even skimmed over the top of them. He’s failing because Junmyeon is a stranger from the Capital and Baekhyun is just a fruit farmer trying his best. 

“We,” Baekhyun pauses, looking around for something, anything, to help him. And he sees it, his saving grace, in the form of shiny red apples floating in a barrel. “We play games!” 

It works. It takes a few minutes, but by the third game Junmyeon’s eyes have softened into something welcoming again, and he even manages to laugh (although quiet, retrained, and small) at some of Baekhyun’s competitive antics. It was nice, the laughing, the playing, it’s a nice break from the previously awkward atmosphere _but._ They eventually wander off from the games, the stars twinkling above them, hands filled with goodies and the mood is back. 

Junmyeon still seems dull, pondering almost. Baekhyun can only watch as Junmyeon watches the kids run around with his carefully composed blank look. He can only hold his breath as Junmyeon doesn’t utter a single word, just looks up at the lanterns, squeezes his palms, and ponders away. Lost in his thoughts. 

They’re walking along one of the dirt paths. Junmyeon on the dirt road and Baekhyun balancing on the little stone walls that outline it. Hopping from one foot to the other so he doesn’t fall, even if it is short. 

“So, what now? The sun retired quite a long time ago.” Junmyeon begins quietly, cautiously. Or so Baekhyun thinks. It definitely seems cautious, broaching. As if Junmyeon has carefully formulated his answers. 

In his arms are about three bags of candy, Baekhyun’s victory spoils. Which he keeps giving away to kids who run along the sides of the worn dirt path with paper puppets and cloth kites in their hands. There’s something about the way Junmyeon does it that seems... practiced. His polite smile, a warmth lingering on his lips even if it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Baekhyun hums in response, glancing over at Junmyeon curiously. He wonders if Junmyeon is aware of the stares. Aware of how the same children who he gives candies to marvel at him, does even know about the grannies and aunties of the village always giggle when he talks? ( _‘So polite that boy is!’_ They coo, after Junmyeon walks away _‘So formal!’_ ). 

“Now is when it quiets down.” Baekhyun looks up to the sky, at how even the light from the lanterns don’t compare to the pretty stars. Now is when Chanyeol would be gagging, calling Baekhyun a fool for admiring stars and fruits over swords and worn down diaries. 

“How so?” Now it’s Junmyeon looking at Baekhyun curiously, down to one bag of candy. 

“Well the games booths slowly close down, the music,” Baekhyun nods his chin towards the square, where anyone who could play an instrument was gathered to liven up the night. “Begins to slow,” And it has. The livelier music with fast string movements and even faster-paced drum beats melting into something slower, reverential. Fitting for their goddess. “And the people start to gather.” 

“For?”

Baekhyun keeps his gaze ahead, “The candles are getting ready to be lit, see?” he points towards the lines starting to form in front of them. It’s more like a series of people clumped together, but it works. “Surely you had that practice in the Capital?” Its tradition. One Baekhyun always adored to some degree, candles being lit and placed in front of the carved goddess statues that lay everywhere in the village. “It—” Baekhyun stops, looking down at Junmyeon but Junmyeon isn’t there. 

For a second, Baekhyun’s heart seizes because Kyungsoo really _will_ scold him if he loses Junmyeon, but Junmyeon Is just a couple paces away, looking stunned. 

“Junmyeon?” Baekhyun calls out, alarmed. He hops down the little stone curb, already pacing towards him. “What happened are you—” he stops, blinking down at the ground in front of Junmyeon when he hears a crunch, and the crinkle of paper. 

The last bag of candies is in front of them both, the purple and blue sweets scrambled in the dirt. Junmyeon is staring down at them, his lips parted and for what feels like the tenth time this evening Baekhyun’s heart stutters with nervousness. Like he’s somehow messed up. He can’t get a read. The blank look, the cautious questions, the way Junmyeon seems _shaken_ it makes no sense. 

“What happened?” Baekhyun presses softly, his hand grazing Junmyeon’s arm. The touch seems to jolt Junmyeon upwards into the realization of his bizarre demeanour. He blinks in surprise, swallowing audibly. 

“Sorry I just,” Junmyeon shakes his head, clearing thoughts Baekhyun doesn’t know. “I was just surprised that’s all.” He smiles, but it’s weak. 

“By…?” Baekhyun looks around them, the trees dotting the landscape past the roadside. “Did you see an animal? A fox maybe…?” 

“No, that’s not,” Junmyeon bites his lips, and glances towards the tree. “It is ridiculous. I’m sorry.” 

“I’m sure it’s not,” Baekhyun reassures, “Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“You light… even here they light candles?” Junmyeon questions, his voice soft. The question takes Baekhyun aback. 

The candles are the star of the show. Short, sweetly-scented and pressed together by the grannies themselves. They were supposed to represent prayers. The wishes of the villagers, and whispers of their hearts. The candle being lit was a sign that the prayer was being formed, solidified, and the smoke was the prayers drifting towards the heavens. Towards the beloved Goddess.

“Of course,” Baekhyun almost frowns but he catches it. The momentary flicker of something vaguely _upsetting_ in Junmyeon’s eyes. “Don’t they do it everywhere?” 

“I wasn’t aware,” Junmyeon murmurs, still not looking at Baekhyun’s eyes.

“That’s...ok,” Baekhyun says slowly. “We’re not late you know, we can still light them. It’d be bad if we didn’t light them after all.” 

“Right,” Junmyeon seems tense. “And do we have to do it… at a communal statue? Or…?” 

Junmyeon is acting as if he’s never lit the candles for the Goddess in his entire life, and it’s throwing Baekhyun off so much his eyes almost bug out.

“I, well, _we_ —” ‘We’ being him, Chanyeol, Jongdae, and Kyungsoo, “Normally do it at the one in Kyungsoo’s yard, he likes us doing it there because his Grandpa used to teach us about the Goddess but,” For whatever reason Baekhyun is hesitating. He’s jumbling his words and they're all pressed together, sticky and messy because Junmyeon’s face doesn’t look purposefully blank anymore, it looks properly empty. 

“But…?” Junmyeon trails off, waiting for Baekhyun. 

“I have a separate statue, it’s…” Old. Baekhyun wants to say. Old and chipped and faded and really a _disgrace_ of a Goddess statue but it’s homey. It’s comforting and it’s hidden wear Baekhyun goes for comfort, a small little nook close to one of the three main bridges leading into the Pit. The beach, where Baekhyun feels the most at ease. “Secluded.” 

“That sounds better,” Junmyeon sounds like a fraction of his stress has been lifted off his shoulders. “If you don’t mind?” 

“I don’t.” Baekhyun smiles. Junmyeon looks like he needs the seclusion, and the privacy, and to just be away from children with shiny eyes and grannies with prying ones. “How about we get our candles?” 

Junmyeon nods in response, and it does nothing to settle Baekhyun’s uneasiness. 

Getting the candles is easy enough. A quick wait in line and the small pieces of wax and a matchbox are being pressed into Baekhyun’s hands with a smile. When he hands it to Junmyeon it drops into his palms like a piece of lead, and Junmyeon looks at it as if it’s more than a candle. More than the symbolism of the Goddess’ love to them and their love back to her. He looks at it like it’s a bomb, one of those rickety machines from the War that could go off at any second. 

“Shall we go?” Junmyeon murmurs, his eyes trained on the candle in his hands. 

Baekhyun nods to show his assent. Unable to bring himself to speak. There’s this nauseousness clawing at his stomach, like he’s making a severe mistake and he has no choice but to just push past it. 

It’s not a short walk. It’s long, arduous almost. With lots of winding paths and cutting through knee-high grass. They complete the mini journey in silence, combined with the occasional comment from Baekhyun which is only and always met with a facial reaction. Junmyeon doesn’t utter a single word, doesn’t let a drop of emotion seep into his eyes. He just clutches onto the candle and keeps his head bowed down as if he’s trying to fold himself into something smaller. 

The wind is sharper now that the night has set in, it’s colder and wields itself like small knives to nick skin. It doesn’t hurt Baekhyun, but he notices how Junmyeon crosses his arms over his chest like a barrier. 

“Sorry,” Baekhyun mumbles, feeling sheepish. “The wind is rough tonight.” 

Junmyeon just offers a smile. It’s worn down and small. 

“It’s right over there,” Baekhyun points to the curve in the road in front of them. The bridge leading to the pit. “Or well, under there.” They reach the bridge, and Baekhyun leans to look under it. It’s impossible to see in the dark but he’s come here enough times to know where it is. “Follow me.” He climbs down the hill, letting the grass tickle his knees. 

“How surprising,” Junmyeon says — finally. His eyes are trained to where Baekhyun is pointing, looking at the worn statue with unreadable eyes. “How did you ever find it?” 

“Accident,” Baekhyun answers truthfully. “I was playing hide and seek one day and stumbled down the hill. Ever since then it’s been like my little refuge. That was just a… lucky mishap.” 

“Everything regarding Her is supposedly a lucky mishap,” Junmyeon mutters so quietly Baekhyun almost doesn’t catch it. There’s this lingering note of menace in Junmyeon’s words, so unlike him that Baekhyun just offers an awkward smile as a peace offering. 

“You have your candle still?” 

Junmyeon dutifully holds it out. 

“Come on,” Baekhyun pads over to the statue, leaning down in front of it slowly. With practiced gestures he dusts the ground off in front of it lovingly, placing the candle down gently. Junmyeon follows suit, dropping his candle beside Baekhyun’s. 

It seems like a sacred moment, a life-changing event. Oddly intimate because Baekhyun doesn’t know Junmyeon all that well, and Junmyeon doesn’t know him. They’re just two acquaintances, kneeling in front of a holy statue. 

Baekhyun pulls the matchbox out of his pockets, and strikes it. Admiring how the orange from the match glows under the dark hollows of the bridge. Carefully lighting each candle Baekhyun shakes the match out, tossing it behind him. 

It’s almost awkward to pray with Junmyeon beside him, the latter setting straighter and stiffer than the statue itself but Baekhyun reminds himself what this is for. Celebration. And thanks. 

Baekhyun closes his eyes, and thinks about everything he has to be thankful for. Peace, comfort, life even. Others weren’t so lucky, Jongdae’s cousin, Kyungsoo’s Grandfather, so many misfortunes caused by the war. But they were hardly affected. It’s easy for Baekhyun to count his blessings, effortless for him to murmur his endless thanks and feel the serenity in his bones. Maybe it’s because it’s his special place, but it all seems so memorable. 

When he opens his eyes, He glances over to Junmyeon, ready to speak but something makes him stop. Like a force, his own will shutting him up before he says something stupid because he can’t process what’s going through Junmyeon’s mind. Junmyeon hasn’t moved an inch. His head's not bowed, his hands aren’t curled together, he just stares at the foot statue with a stubbornness he can’t place.

Junmyeon doesn’t look at Baekhyun, and he’s not looking at the statue either. But there is something so undeniably _heavy_ in how his shoulders are hunched, the way his palms are squeezed together tightly. He just stares endlessly and rather blankly at the statue in front of them. 

The flickering light from Baekhyun’s candle casts shadows on Junmyeon’s face, and there’s this moment— a mere second— fragile like glass, where it highlights Junmyeon’s eyes and Baekhyun sees it. Just for a second, a flash really, the look on Junmyeon’s face is so foreign and lost out here because it’s strangely _hollow._ Bitter, almost, if Baekhyun is interpreting it right. 

He wants to ask if Junmyeon’s ok, if there’s anything he can do but for some nagging reason he feels like nothing he says will help. Because there’s this divide between the two of them, this gap that no matter what Baekhyun does it’ll always be filled with dangerous, sharp, _guarded_ waters Baekhyun can’t cross. 

It (the nagging feeling Baekhyun has been ignoring), started at the festival. It (the idea, weighing on the back of his mind), starts to solidify at The Goddess Festival. The one festival where everyone, _everyone,_ came out to celebrate the goodness of their one and only beloved Goddess. 

Everyone but Junmyeon. 

It. The idea that Junmyeon isn’t the simple person he poses as. The thought that Junmyeon is more than just a stranger from the Capital, hits Baekhyun with so much force he tears up as Junmyeon finally tips the candle forward with a straight face. 

Baekhyun just places a comforting hand on Junmyeon’s arm.

“It’s alright,” Baekhyun says, his lame offering towards easing Junmyeon. 

“Is it?” Junmyeon asks quietly, “I just, I can't bring myself to thank her.” 

And the weight of the words nearly crushes Baekhyun. Of course, Junmyeon would feel like he doesn’t have as much to be thankful for. He fought in the War, he probably saw his own friends and comrades killed, and has suffered through wounds Baekhyun is unaware of. So for that reason, for Junmyeon’s suffering, Baekhyun thinks of a prayer to the Goddess for Junmyeon’s personal healing, for dark and dangerous waters to stop rocking so he can eventually, one day, feel peace. 

“You’ve been through a lot Junmyeon,” Baekhyun starts, hesitant. “So it’s alright. You don’t need… you don’t need to push yourself for a tradition.” 

“We did this back in the Capital too,” Junmyeon murmurs, his eyes trained on the candles now. 

Baekhyun glances at him curiously, but in answer as well. 

“And sometimes,” Junmyeon pauses, as if he’s contemplating his words carefully. “It’s different there. More studious, serious. The candle lighting is a big affair, the Head Priests come down to officiate a ceremony. Her Chosen One, do you know about that…?” 

“Yes, yeah, everyone knows about that,” Baekhyun says hurriedly. The Goddess’ Beloved was no joke. Chosen by Her on a special eve to represent the Church and lead the union between Priesthood and the Palace, it was particularly controversial because this time she had chosen the youngest prince of the land as Her Beloved. 

I”t was always the same. The Goddess is amazing, she’s beautiful, breathes light and gold, and purifies _but,”_ Junmyeon inhales sharply, as if trying to bottle his words up again. 

“Junmyeon, you really don’t have to—” 

“Sometimes She doesn’t deserve to be thanked.” Junmyeon blurts out, his fingers and face pale under the moonlight. 

It. The realization that there will be parts of Junmyeon’s life that will forever be unknown to Baekhyun, curls around his soul with a grip so tight Baekhyun grapples for breath, like Junmyeon’s own grief is shackling him down. 

There’s no right answer, no _correct_ answer, so Baekhyun just nods. Lets his opinion be known, that he won’t pressure Junmyeon for his thanks. Won’t demand he takes his words back because there’s _reason_ there, even if Baekhyun will never know what it is. 

“Sometimes,” Junmyeon repeats himself, still quiet, still tense. “She just does not deserve to be thanked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was a heavy mess but long time no update, I hope u guys enjoyed this :)

**Author's Note:**

> these chapters probably won't be posted in chronological order


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